Nice
by ladyschicksal
Summary: What happens when Cameron visits the Mirror Syndrome patient's room? What happens when she and House are in the room together? Post Mirror, Mirror. HCam Angst. Don't worry, this is definitely ending up with Hameron.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own House!**

**A/N: Spoilers for Mirror, Mirror. I was just kind of planning this as a one shot, but if you want more, let me know and I'll certainly think about it. This is me in an angsty mood.  
**

* * *

Cameron stood to the side, out of view, watching the crowd of people that had gathered outside the Mirror Syndrome patient's room. Scanning the group, she quickly picked out Foreman and Wilson, both watching the proceedings with affected airs of indifference, but she could see the slight intensity in Foreman's eyes. He had something riding on this. When she heard the cries of fair and foul, she quickly realized that House had won the little bet with Cuddy. It didn't take a genius to tell her that House was the dominant one in that particular relationship; any other hospital administrator would have fired House long ago, or at least put him on some serious probation. Cuddy, though? She'd been letting House walk all over her recently, which disappointed Cameron. It'd been enough that Cameron herself had let House walk all over her at various points.

She snorted aloud, drawing the attention of Thirteen, who'd been standing at the back of the group. After a slight hesitation, Thirteen looked behind her to make sure that the other doctors were too busy cashing in their bets, and then walked over to Cameron.

"Dr. Cameron," she greeted, standing next to her and still watching the ensuing insanity. House was still doing his victory dance, apparently, causing various doctors to cheer or boo. The two women took a moment to simultaneously roll their eyes. "I don't think we've met yet, I'm…"

"The infamous Thirteen," Cameron interrupted, still watching the doctors. "I've heard a bit about you already. I hear you've caught House's attention," she said, finally turning to look at the younger woman. It took a little bit of an effort to keep a slight hint of jealousy from her tone. It wasn't that Cameron was jealous of Thirteen herself, but rather… Mirror Syndrome? That was just too cool. She missed diagnostics more than she'd admit. Thirteen didn't react to her statement. If anything, it seemed to annoy her.

"I've heard that Amber's been making her way down to the Emergency Room to ask for advice," Thirteen threw out, leaning back as the doctors started to flee the scene. Cuddy had just stormed out of the room, and no one wanted to get in her way.

"She has," Cameron replied. "You don't particularly sound as if you care, though," she noted.

"Not particularly," Thirteen agreed. "It's just interesting to me." Cameron's eyes narrowed as she turned her attention back to Thirteen.

"Why?"

"Well, everyone knows Amber wants this job, and that she'll do _anything_ to get it, even manipulate a senior attending in the ER. It just doesn't explain why you're helping her. Or why you're up here right now, doing your best not be seen." Thirteen's voice lowered as Taub and Amber walked by the two of them, their voices raised in argument. Cameron sighed, watching as House, Wilson, and Foreman began to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction. Thirteen had a point, even if Cameron would never admit it. It was ridiculous that she was standing in the shadows, feeling guilty for… Her breath suddenly caught in her throat. House had turned to look behind him, and he'd immediately found Cameron's face. For a split second, their gazes locked, and Cameron felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. Just as quickly as it began, however, it was over. He turned back to make some snarky comment to Wilson.

Cameron opened her mouth and turned to speak to Thirteen. It was with some consternation that she realized that Thirteen was gone. _Probably got her answer the moment I acted like a love-sick idiot because House _looked_ in my direction_, Cameron thought. Annoyed with herself, she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her fingers violently against her forearm. But she still stood there, watching Kutner administer the medication to the patient. She waited patiently until the hallway cleared and Kutner had left.

Then, surreptitiously, Cameron opened the door to the patient's room and walked in. Shutting it quietly behind her, she took a moment to look the patient over. He seemed nice enough.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Allison Cameron, I work in the ER here. I saw you for a brief second when you first came to the hospital. I used to work for Dr. House, the doctor who diagnosed you. It's a stroke of luck that you ended up here, because you're getting the best possible treatments." She paused, waiting for him to say something. "Listen, I just wanted to know if…" The patient let out a big sigh, and Cameron walked closer to the bed, eager for him to speak.

"I don't want to be here," he said. "Maybe I made a mistake." Cameron's brow furrowed. "I'm not happy."

"Are you being me?" Cameron asked, confused. She was perfectly content working in the ER. "I'm fine with my job. I have a great…boyfriend, and I just bought a cat." The patient groaned.

"But I don't love him! Not him, not him. He's never been the one." Cameron rolled her eyes.

"That's not true," she countered. "He's perfectly nice."

"Too nice," the patient scoffed. "If I wanted nice, I'd have bought a dog. No, I hate the word 'nice.' Everyone thinks that _I'm_ nice, but they just don't know." Cameron leaned forward, intrigued. "It's true, you know, I'm _not_ nice."

"You don't sound too convinced," she said, smiling.

"Well, there's a difference between being nice and wanting to help, isn't there? You don't have to be nice to want to help someone out." He was speaking softly, calmly.

"That's true, I suppose," Cameron agreed. "But why help someone if you're not nice?"

"Because _I_ need help." She thought about that for a moment. It described any number of people that she knew: Wilson, House, Cuddy, and, yes, herself. "It hurt too much," he continued, "to stay there. I had to leave."

"Leave where?"

"My old job. I was tired of hurting all the time. Now I try not to hurt, but I'm still not happy." Cameron shook her head while listening to the patient speak. This was all just too unreal for her. She jumped a little when he reached for her hand. "I lied earlier, I'm sorry."

"About what?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"About being nice. I mean, I _am_ nice, but I'm not _as_ nice as everyone thinks I am, you know? No one takes you seriously, though, if they just think you're nice. Oh, God, I hate the word nice. Isn't there another word we can use?"

"I can't think of another one right now, I'm sorry," Cameron replied, chuckling softly.

"Do you think people take me seriously?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want them to, but I don't think they ever will." She thought about that for a long moment, feeling her throat tighten somewhat.

"Maybe they do," she tried. "Maybe they don't, though. Sometimes they all have a funny way of showing it. But you have to try not to care, right?" Desperately she ignored the tears stinging her eyes, but she was all too aware that they were both talking about her.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he replied, sounding defeated. "But I know I'm smart; I know I have skills. Why do I care so much what the others think?" For a brief second, the patient's eyes shot to the glass wall, and he nodded towards the doctors walking around the halls. "It shouldn't matter to me what they all think, and yet it does. Why is that?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

"I'm just too used to not being taken seriously, you know? No one's ever appreciated me for being me." He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed. "I guess it doesn't help that I'm not exactly sure who 'me' is, right?" Cameron couldn't help but smile.

"Are you sure that's true?" she asked.

"Pretty sure," he said, returning her smile. "Are you okay?" He'd finally noticed the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, me? I'm fine." She patted his hand reassuringly.

"Did you know that I'm a really bad liar?" The patient tried to smile, but there was no missing the hint of sadness in his tone.

"_I_ certainly did." Cameron's head whipped around when she heard that voice. It was a voice that still managed to make her knees weak, despite her protestations to the contrary. Standing in the doorway was, of course, House. "I forgot my jacket," he explained, motioning to a chair beside the patient's bed.

"Oh, it's okay," she said, "I was just leaving."

"Like you said, she's a really bad liar." House spoke to the patient, but kept his eyes on Cameron as he limped to the chair. The two stared at each other for a moment as House put his jacket on. They'd almost forgotten that the patient was there, until he spoke once more, very softly.

"I miss you." Two pairs of eyes shot to the patient, only to find him looking at Cameron. House lowered his gaze quickly, obviously trying to find a quick way out of this situation.

"Looks like his meds are working," he offered, though neither he nor Cameron bought it.

"Yeah, probably," she responded, sighing. A wave of sadness washed over her as she realized that only a sick patient could tell her what House really wanted to say. He'd never do it himself.

"I'm sorry," the patient whispered. Cameron made a small noise, and felt a lone tear fall down her cheek. "Come back." Though she could feel House's eyes on her, intent to discern her feelings—or perhaps with a sadistic desire to watch her in pain—Cameron turned to flee the room. Before she left, though, a masochistic urge inside of her forced her to turn back to look at him once more. His features were carefully guarded, but she caught a brief glimpse of pain in his eyes. Not physical pain, but rather something much deeper. But what would it take for him to open up? She didn't know, and right now she wasn't sure she could try.

She left. _Again_, House thought.

"I'm an _idiot_," the patient said, groaning and putting both hands over his face.

House reached for his pill bottle. Again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Don't own House. :(**

**A/N: So, a lot of people did ask for more; therefore I'm going to continue with the angst. I think that what I wrote works well as a one-shot, and those who prefer it that way can pretend the rest of this does not exist. That's definitely okay by me. If you guys haven't heard anything by Gustav Mahler, give it a try sometime. Spoilers for Mirror, Mirror!  
**

* * *

"You're a freak." House had meant it, sort of. People didn't just _change_. Foreman quit because he was afraid of turning into House, but the truth was that being any distance away from House was not going to change Foreman. In the end, Foreman was just going to have to accept that he was House Version 2.0. But, all of a sudden, there was a very clear difference between the two men: Foreman was happy. He'd never be _cheerful_, but he was happy.

House was lying on the floor of his apartment, too frustrated with himself to even allow the luxury of the couch. No, the pain of the wooden floor was just what he needed. His speakers were blasting the Adagio from Mahler's unfinished Tenth Symphony. Mahler left the symphony unfinished because he died of an infection at age 50. Diagnostically boring, but musically tragic. Mahler had been a staple of House's teenage years—the angst and loud emotions just too perfectly represented House's "inner feelings." It'd been years, though, since House had forced himself to lie on the floor, close his eyes, and just completely let the music take him away.

"House." He'd been too out of it to notice that Wilson had let himself into his apartment. House's eyes shot to the clock, where he noticed that it was eleven thirty. When House raised an eyebrow, Wilson shrugged. "My Spidey sense was tingling." House's expression didn't change. "Okay, I 'ran into' a distraught Cameron about two seconds after I saw her come out of the Mirror patient's room. Then, amazingly, I saw you leave the room about ten seconds later."

"Go away," House grumbled, returning to his position. Unfazed, Wilson sighed and sat down on the floor next to House. When he realized that House really was just going to ignore him, he lay down next to his pained friend, and mirrored his position.

"Mahler?" Wilson asked. It took House every ounce of self-control not to smile. There was a reason why Wilson was his best friend. He nodded, and Wilson seemed satisfied. The two men lay next to each other, both letting their minds wander for a few minutes.

House remembered the pained way that the Mirror patient had said, "I miss you."

_I miss you_. It was true, as much as House didn't want to admit it. In fact, he would never admit it to anyone else. _It was probably just a familiarity thing_, he reasoned. _I've known Cameron for three years, so of course it'd be a little weird for her to _not_ be there all of a sudden._ He remembered the tear that had fallen down her cheek, and how quickly she'd tried to wipe it away. She'd obviously felt so vulnerable in front of him, and he didn't know what to do with that. What was worse was how he'd wanted to kiss that tear, and taste its saltiness; how he wanted to take in Cameron's pain for her, and soothe her. Yeah, that scared the crap out of him. Good thing she worked in the ER nowadays. He had no reason to see her.

Wilson, on House's right, was thinking about the look on Cameron's face when she'd exited the hospital room. He'd rarely seen such naked pain on someone's face, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out what, or rather _who_, had been responsible for it. Wilson knew without a doubt that Cameron cared for House. What was harder for him to figure out was whether or not House cared for Cameron. That was part of the reason why he was here. Lying on the floor while listening to Mahler was a big check in House behavior under the heading "FUCK!" "FUCK!" was an emergency; "FUCK!" meant that House had either lost a patient—Wilson knew he had not—or it meant that he was dealing with something of an extremely emotional nature.

The music came to its tortured, ambiguous end, and left the two men in a pensive silence. Finally, Wilson turned to look at House.

"What did the patient say?"

"What makes you think he said anything?" Wilson rolled his eyes. "Nothing much, really. He just said that he missed Cameron."

"Which means that _you_ missed Cameron, then," Wilson interpreted.

"Which means that he_thought_ I missed her. Big difference."

"I get it, House. Even though you actually do miss her, you've never said so, so it can't be true." House turned his head to look at Wilson. It took a few moments before Wilson gave in and turned to look at House. "What?"

"This is kind of gay, you know," House said, motioning between the two of them. "But why not go all the way? Wouldn't we be more comfortable in bed?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively, prompting Wilson to snort.

"What, two friends can't lie down next to each other without being gay? You're deflecting, House."

"Well, _one_ of us…"

"House, I don't know where that comment is going, and I don't want to. Face it, you miss Cameron, and you don't know what to do about it. When was the last time you listened to Mahler?" House felt a sudden urge to punch in Wilson's extremely smug face.

"About two years ago…" House mumbled.

"Would that be…hmm…right after _Stacy_ left? Oh, ladies and gentlemen, I think we have it!" There was a slight pause as House tried to come up with an appropriate comeback. When none were forthcoming, Wilson continued. "Listen, House, I'm not telling you you have to do something about it."

"That's new," House grumbled.

"I'm just saying that it's all right to miss her, and admitting that doesn't mean you have to run over to her apartment and declare your true love. Besides, she's already with Chase, so you've completely missed that boat."

"She's not going to end up with Chase! Don't be ridiculous. That's just too…"

"Well, why wouldn't she end up with Chase?" Wilson interrupted. "I mean, he's handsome, smart, funny, _and_ a successful surgeon."

"_And_ a disloyal, two-timing…" House started, mimicking Wilson's bombastic tone.

"Face it, House, when Chase gets over some of his daddy issues and learns to stop trying to please everyone, he's going to be an amazing doctor. So, tell me again why Cameron shouldn't be with him?"

"Because…"_Because he's not good enough for her._ "Because…"_Because she's supposed to be in love with me. _"Because their kids would be the most obnoxious spawn ever to slither across the Earth." It sounded lame even to his own ears.

"Are you kidding? Those would be the most attractive kids ever!" Wilson sounded just a bit too enthusiastic. House's eyes narrowed as he took in his friend's studied casualness.

"Wilson, are you trying to make me jealous enough to do something incredibly stupid?"

"Is it working?"

"No." Wilson looked away from House, trying to hide a smile. No immediate sarcastic comment added to his answer meant that House was feeling pensive. Pensive meant he was dealing with emotions. Emotions meant… well, in this case Wilson was sure it meant that he was trying to figure out what to do about his former employee. He also knew that his presence would prompt House to deny as much as possible.

"All right, then. I'm off. I'll see you tomorrow," Wilson said, grunting as he stood up. In response to House's incredulous expression, Wilson smiled. "You would _so_ do my laundry."

"Would not!" House called out, frowning when he heard the door slam. "I need a drink," he mumbled, looking at the coffee table. He'd left his scotch there a while ago, and it looked like all the ice had melted. Frustrated, House sat up and grabbed the glass. He downed the rest of its contents. Without missing a beat, he refilled his glass, and downed that one as well. Then he limped to the stereo and changed the CD.

* * *

The last movement of Mahler's Third Symphony was now blasting throughout his apartment. He'd actually gone through the First and Second Symphonies as well, so he wasn't too surprised when he looked at the clock and saw that it was fast approaching two in the morning. Unfortunately, he hadn't stopped drinking, so it seemed like a brilliant idea to call Cameron and tell her that he didn't really miss her.

Nervousness settled in his stomach as the phone started to ring. House leaned back, ignoring the groaning of his couch.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered. But it wasn't Cameron. "Hello?" _Fuck. Chase._ House hung up without saying a word. After a brief second, he then turned on his phone again, listening to the dial tone. He threw the phone on the couch and limped to the bedroom.

_Dammit. _

* * *

"Who was it?" Cameron whispered. She didn't sound sleepy at all, probably because she had yet to sleep. Chase had stumbled in a couple of hours ago, and had gone to bed without saying a single word to Cameron. After a slight hesitation, presumably as he checked the caller ID, Chase spoke.

"I think it was House," he replied, obviously confused. "What the Hell would he want from you at two in the morning?"

"I have no idea," Cameron said, doing her best not to sound like her heart had stopped beating in her chest.

"Weird," Chase mumbled, yawning.

"Yeah," Cameron agreed. She waited for a few minutes before Chase's breathing slowed once more, letting her know he was asleep. Quietly she tiptoed to the kitchen, and picked up the phone. After taking a deep breath, she dialed House's home number. No answer.

_Maybe that's for the best_. She jumped slightly when her cat rubbed up against her leg. _If I wanted nice I'd have bought a dog_. Cameron smiled as she remembered the patient's words. Maybe she should have mentioned that she didn't actually _buy_ the cat, but rather adopted it.

"Hi Gretchen. You couldn't sleep either? Oh, poor baby," Cameron cooed while bending down to pet her cat. Gretchen meowed plaintively when Cameron stood up and hung up the phone. "Oh, quit whining. You're spoiled already, and it's only been a week." Gretchen didn't seem to have a good comeback.

Cameron stared down the hallway to her bedroom, hesitating. She didn't particularly want to go back to Chase. Deep down she knew that it wasn't going to work out between them, but she didn't have the guts to break things off. Not yet, anyway, and she hated that about herself.

She was being too _nice_. As much as it frustrated her, the patient had been right about nearly everything: Cameron didn't have a good idea of who she was; she did want to help people, but she also needed help herself. No, she wasn't happy working in the ER, and, no, she didn't want to be with Chase. All true.

Cameron stormed to the kitchen once more, and threw open the freezer. Lying on its side, tempting her, and promising to let her forget her troubles, was a bottle of vodka. She reached for it, but then violently recoiled and slammed the door shut. No, she was not going there. She was not going to turn into her father; she was better than that. She was stronger.

Sighing deeply, Cameron placed her forehead against the freezer.

"What do I do?" she whispered to herself, her throat tightening as tears filled her eyes. Gretchen rubbed up against her once more, meowing empathetically, or, at least, Cameron imagined so. But she still hurt. Suddenly resolved, Cameron grabbed the phone once more and called House's cell phone.

She had to call three more times before he picked up.

"What?" he growled. "Cameron, it's nearly three o'clock in the fucking morning!" She couldn't help the ingrained reaction when she realized that he was slurring his words and that he was probably very drunk: Cameron was afraid, just like she was a six-year-old child again. But he wasn't her father.

"House, I…"

"If you don't say something in the next five seconds, I'm going to hang up."

"I miss you too."

There was a long pause before he hung up without saying another word. Calmly, Cameron managed to hang up the phone. Then she let the tears fall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Do not own!!!**

**A/N: Spoilers for Ugly! After this, I'm going to follow my own game plan. **

* * *

House had avoided her like the plague for the next couple of weeks. Not that that was hard, since she was confined to the ER. Once or twice she'd tried to talk to Wilson about him, but Wilson had been surprisingly tight-lipped. He let it slip that House had been showing up to work hungover more often than usual, which only frustrated and worried her. Deep down, she knew she was an idiot for calling him in the middle of the night to tell him she missed him. Even now she cringed as she remembered the click of the phone as he hung up on her and her ridiculous hopes. It'd been stupid of her to even entertain the notion that he might return her sentiments. But, despite her (many) rejections, she couldn't help how she felt about him.

"No, no. I-I love Dr. House." It took a moment for her to remember that she was being filmed. She'd been on autopilot as she'd answered questions and dealt with her patient. Cameron looked up when she heard the voice of the director. "I mean, what did you ask me again?"

_Crap._

* * *

"Okay, so I may have done something stupid today," Cameron admitted to Chase. He was scrubbing up for the surgery, and didn't stop washing his hands to ask her a tired,

"What happened?"

"Well, the documentary crew was filming me and asking me questions about House, right?'

"Okay," Chase said, not sounding happy about the direction of the conversation.

"Right, so I _may_ have said something that made it sound like I love House. You know, like I was _in love_ with House." Whenever Cameron was nervous and trying to explain something, she tended to gesticulate a bit more than she usually did. After leaning to the left to avoid a flailing hand, Chase realized just how serious this was to her. It also didn't take a lot to figure out _why_ it might be.

"Cameron!" he exclaimed, turning off the water. "What exactly did you say that_may _have made it sound like you're in love with House?"

"'I love Dr. House'?" Chase didn't say anything, but he turned away from Cameron, and threw off his scrub cap with a big sigh.

"Jesus, Cam, what were you thinking?" His voice was raised slightly, but he was still surprisingly calm. Maybe, she reasoned, he was just frustrated about the delayed surgery, and he was taking it partly out on her. That thought actually made her feel a bit more comfortable, and gave her the courage to keep speaking.

"I _wasn't_ thinking, that's the whole point. I was distracted and I said something stupid, I know that. It's pretty obvious that I need to clear some things up, so I've been practicing a little speech, and I was hoping that you would give me five minutes to listen to it? You know, give me some advice? Please, Chase." She gave him such a pitiful look that Chase couldn't help but agree.

"I have about ten minutes." He motioned toward the door that would lead them to the surgical locker room.

"Great! Thanks!" Cameron hoped that her cheeriness would belie the unease that she felt.

It was true that she'd been practicing a speech, qualifying her qualification. So, when she stood in front of the mirror, it came much more easily than she imagined. She could do this, right? It would explain everything, no problem.

"I look defensive, don't I?"

"No, no, I think that's great. Clears everything up." Uh oh.

"You don't sound too convinced," she noted, turning around and crossing her arms over her chest. Chase stood up and walked towards her.

"Cam, the only reason why you would worry about everyone thinking you're in love with House is if you actually were in love with House." He stopped inches away from her, and crossed his arms over his chest. Cameron tried to ignore the sense of frustration she felt as he raised his eyebrows, clearly expecting her to say something.

"I'm not… I mean, that's ridiculous, why would I be in love with House?" She threw her hands up in the air, and stalked back to the mirror.

"That's an_excellent _question." Chase hadn't moved, so when she looked up into the mirror, she saw him, watching her movements carefully. After a couple of deep breaths, Cameron tried speaking once more.

"He's a _jerk_, a misanthrope, and he's never, ever… well, that's not true, but, you know…"

"Dr. Chase?" A surgical nurse had opened the door to the locker room. "You're needed for surgery."

"Be right there," Chase answered, still looking at Cameron. He waited until the door closed again before speaking again. "Cameron, it's okay. I'm sure they won't even use that part in the film, and if they did, I'm sure people won't think that you're madly in love with House. Presumably they'll have seen the rest of the film, so they'd probably think you would have to be _insane_ in order to be in love with someone like House." For a moment he hesitated, and Cameron had the feeling that he wanted to say more. But he didn't; instead, he left the room without saying another word.

"'You would have to be insane in order to be in love with someone like House.' Great." Cameron looked into the mirror, and knew exactly what she was seeing: she was looking at a crazy woman.

* * *

"Cameron was smart."

"I'm beginning to doubt that." With that parting shot, Wilson left House alone in the room, with only the incriminating footage to remind him of what an ass he was. Frustrated, House went through the footage a couple more times, smacking his forehead at all the appropriate moments. Beautiful women did seem to currently be his Kryptonite, but it didn't make any sense. After all, Cameron was beautiful. Hell,_Cuddy_ was beautiful. Granted, Cameron had rendered him speechless once or twice. Okay, right, and there was the whole calling-her-at-two-in-the-morning-and-then-hanging-up thing he did a couple of weeks ago. But, in his defense, in that particular case it was probably the alcohol that had coerced him into doing something so dumb. But Terzi? _Thirteen_? Maybe Wilson was right: he needed a real relationship.

Sighing heavily, House placed his head against the desk, unthinkingly letting the tape run.

"Before you worked in the ER, you worked for House, right?"

His head shot up. Immediately his gaze settled on Cameron's image. In another lifetime, she must have been a Hollywood starlet—if it was possible, she looked even more glamorous in black and white, which was surprising considering she was working a grueling double shift in the ER. He felt his heart pound when she told the film crew that she loved him—even if she didn't mean it—but his eyes were glued to the screen.

"He was always…stimulating. Not in the erotic sense of the word." _Oh God_. House covered his face with his hands. _She didn't_. He didn't want to hear anything else; he shut the tape off with a violent gesture, and placed his head against the desk once more.

All of his thoughts were whirring in his mind. He saw Terzi's face, Thirteen's, and, most of all, Cameron's. When he saw Terzi, he felt a slight curiosity and a rush of desire. Okay, well, that was easy enough to deal with: he wanted her. He would either act on that, or he wouldn't. She didn't seem to have much promise as a diagnostician, though. For the moment, he pushed her aside. Next came Thirteen. Okay, well, she was pretty, but more than anything else, House felt curiosity. He wanted to figure her out. She was intriguing, enigmatic, troubled. But any reaction he had to the other two paled in comparison to what he felt when he called to mind Cameron.

While his thoughts whirred softly when he contemplated Terzi and Thirteen, it was like a hurricane in his mind whenever Cameron appeared. He felt everything at once: desire, curiosity, fear, pain, tenderness, frustration, melancholy, passion, familiarity, comfort. The most bizarre feeling was this warmth in the pit of his stomach that seemed to radiate throughout his body. As an experiment, he thought about both Stacy and Cuddy, and was surprised to see neither his ex-girlfriend nor his boss called forth such violent emotions as Cameron did. It scared him.

_I miss you, too... _

_You're a freak…_

_Not all change is bad, you know. _

He looked up, Cameron's voice echoing in his head. But he didn't know how to change.

_Start small, House. Take a chance. Maybe something that doesn't involve sticking stuff in your brain. Pizza with a friend; a movie. Something. _

His brow furrowed as he contemplated his various options, but just as he started to become accustomed to the idea of having pizza with a friend, his pager went off. With a growl, he reached for his cane and rushed off, hoping to get as far away as possible from the rough cuts and everything they were telling him.

* * *

The moment the cameras appeared to start filming the surgery, Cameron got out of the way. She still wanted to watch—after all, she should be supportive of her surgeon boyfriend—but she was careful to stay out of sight. It didn't faze her to see Thirteen scrubbed up and ready to go into the surgery; House might just have asked her to go on purpose to stand as a pawn in some sort of power play with Chase. So she moved to another room, not the gallery, where she could watch unnoticed.

But then something big was happening. Cameron looked up at the gallery and saw House and Wilson standing there, just as she noticed Thirteen, Chase, and the cameras rush into the operating room. They hovered around the patient for a moment, and then they picked up a razor and shaved part of the patient's head. She couldn't see what they discovered, but it was something important. House gave Thirteen a proud look while making a remark to Wilson, and Cameron felt her heart constrict. She watched House for a moment longer, until Chase stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him.

"I can't believe it!" he screamed. Cameron jumped.

"Wh-what happened?"

"Lyme disease. He…He…I just…" Frustrated, Chase hung his head and leaned against the wall. "I wanted to do this surgery so badly."

"Well, you will. Just not today." Cameron took a very hesitant step towards Chase. "It's okay."

"That's not the point, Cameron. I saw the cameras, I wanted the attention, I wanted the acclaim, or whatever, and I barely thought about the patient."

"No offense, Chase, but you've never been the one to care most about the patient," she pointed out, confused.

"I know, I know. But, for the first time, I just…it was _completely_ about me. I almost thought that House was just trying to take away my shot to do this surgery—it never even occurred to me that there could actually be something wrong with the kid."

"We all make mistakes, Robert," she whispered. Chase's head shot up, and he found her eyes. They both stood still for a moment, each wishing they could tell the other the truth.

"When we were working for House, at least there was a puzzle to solve, and the patients were part of that. Now it's as if they're just… a hunk of meat for me to work on. I had wondered if this would be good for me, you know, to get away from all the crap that people put you through. All the lies, deceit, mistrust… But maybe it's better to have that than nothing at all. I… What happened to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't what I want to do."

"Me neither." Chase chuckled softly in response to Cameron's confession.

"Who knew? We're both unhappy."

"Yeah, we are." When he heard the melancholy in her voice, Chase looked up at Cameron, apprehensive. As he tried to read her expression, Chase's face fell. He saw all he needed to know.

"You're unhappy with _me_."

"Yes, I am." Cameron could tears roll down her cheeks—tears she hadn't even been aware of. She tried to take a breath, but the effort was too much for her, and she started to sob. Chase rushed to her, and put his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Robert, I really am. I tried so hard to be happy, but I'm not. I don't think I ever will be. I'm so sorry, I didn't… I don't want to hurt you."

"It's okay." He'd hesitated before he said that, but she could hear the resignation in his tone.

"It is?" She looked up at him, her mascara running down her cheeks.

"In the end, Cam, I hope you realize that I only want you to be happy. I…You mean a lot to me—more than I could possibly say. But, if being with me makes you…" he broke off, sighing. Cameron thought she saw his eyes shine with unshed tears, but she couldn't be sure. "It's always been House, hasn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Tired and sad, Cameron softly placed her head against his chest. He pulled her closer to him, wishing desperately that he didn't have to give her up.

"You love House." There was a pause as Cameron hesitated, but then she nodded. "I-I'm sorry, Cameron." For the last time, Chase kissed her forehead; he closed his eyes and let his lips linger against her skin. "Let me take you home."

"O-okay," Cameron agreed, still not taking her head off of Chase's chest. She couldn't believe that Chase was going to just let her go, but the thought that he would do so _for her_ made her smile. Still smiling, she wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him.

* * *

House was fully intent on boasting to Chase, even though, technically, he hadn't come up with the diagnosis. He was wandering the surgical wing, hoping to find him. As he walked by a door, he finally caught a glimpse of Chase's blonde hair. Backtracking somewhat, House took in the scene in front of him.

Cameron was smiling and hugging Chase, while Chase kissed her forehead. They looked like a perfectly happy couple. If House had bothered to look a little closer, he would have seen the tears in Chase's eyes, or Cameron's smeared mascara. But the initial picture was enough for him. Chase had what _he_ wanted.

House turned away from the door and stormed down the hallway. He was going to go fire someone, and then he was going to get roaring drunk off of the bottle of scotch he had hidden in his office. Sounded like a good night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own House!**

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews, guys. It makes me happy to know that people are reading (and enjoying…) So keep it up! ;)  
**

* * *

Cameron sat on her couch, wrapped in her favorite quilt—the one her mother had made her for her fifth birthday—and sipped from a mug of hot peppermint tea. All of the lights in the apartment were off, and she was simply staring out of her window, thinking. A few hours ago, Chase had dropped her off, picked up a few of his things that were scattered around, and then left. Just like that. She'd cried some more, telling him again and again how sorry she was, and he'd given her one last hug. But then he left. Of course he would; she'd just broken up with him.

She needed to talk with someone. With who? Not with Chase, obviously, or with Foreman. Unfortunately she hadn't been in close enough contact with her college friends—or high school friends, for that matter—to warrant a teary nighttime phone call. Besides, most of them were married with kids; they had their own lives to deal with. Cameron sighed and wrapped the quilt tighter around her body. Suddenly she had an idea and reached for the phone. She dialed the number without even thinking.

"Hello?" a man answered after a few rings.

"Wilson?" She sniffled.

"Cameron? What's wrong?"

"I-I just need someone to talk to. Are you busy?"

"Uh, well, no. No, I'm not. I'm just finishing up some paperwork in my office." Cameron glanced at the clock. Though it felt to her as if it should have been three in the morning, it was still only nine.

"Oh, I don't want to bother you," she demurred. _What an idiot. Yes, I do want to bother him…_

"Cameron, it's okay, seriously. I don't mind. Tell you what: I haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"No."

"Well, how about you pick up some Chinese or something, and bring it to my office, and then we can eat and chat? In the meantime, I can try to get some more paperwork done. Does that sound okay?" Though he sounded for the most part calm and soothing, she could pick up on a hint of nervousness. She just couldn't tell if he was worried about _her_ or about something else.

"That sounds okay. I think I can do that."

"Good, I'll see you soon then. Bye."

"Bye." Cameron hit the end button on her phone, and stared at it for a minute. Then she slowly put it down, and stood up, looking for her keys.

* * *

House had been perfectly serious when he'd planned on getting roaring drunk that night. First, he'd had to fire Terzi, though, and then he'd had to ask her out. Maybe that hadn't been the smartest idea he'd ever had—most women wouldn't appreciate an offer of a date from the guy that just fired them. Obviously, he'd been rejected. Again. Not that he was surprised.

So, he made a small show of packing up for the night, and then he'd retreated back to his office, where he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of a nice twenty three-year old Scotch. There was no excuse to have something like that hidden away in his office except for the fact that House had anticipated on one day needing it desperately. _A day like today, come to think of it._ At the moment, though, House was not analyzing the reasons why he'd decided that today was the day.

As an experiment, House tossed his ball into the air. When he caught it without a problem, he knew he still had some drinking to do. He poured a generous amount of Scotch into his red coffee mug, and leaned back in his chair. At that very moment, he saw Cameron walk by. House did a violent double-take, making sure that it was indeed his former immunologist walking by his office at nine forty-five at night carrying a bag of take out. _Where the Hell is she going?_

He waited a few seconds, before limping to his office door, and opening it a crack. All he caught was a glimpse of her blonde hair as she presumably took a turn to the right. _To Wilson's office…_

Contemplating what he just saw, House went back into his office and downed his Scotch. He made a small face as he poured himself another shot.

* * *

"You're here already? Great. I'm starving!" Wilson gave Cameron a warm smile as he opened the door to his office, and motioned toward the couch. Together they unpacked the food in silence, each unsure of what to say. "So, what's up?" Wilson asked, as he started to dig into his cold sesame noodles.

"Chase and I broke up today." She waited a moment while Wilson choked on his noodles. "It's a good thing, I think. But, I feel bad about hurting his feelings."

"So, you were the one to break it off?" he asked hesitantly.

"Well, I suppose you could say that. I was the one who wanted to break up, and he didn't. But he understood, I guess. Isn't that amazing? I just don't understand. He realized I was unhappy, and he just let me go." Even though they were discussing a serious topic, Cameron hadn't realized how hungry she was. She stuffed half a dumpling in her mouth and chewed it carefully.

"You're right, I don't really understand that. Chase is head over heels in love with you. What reason could he possibly have to let you go?" Wilson watched Cameron carefully as she considered his question.

"I think it's because he finally realized that I was never going to love him."

"And why wouldn't you?"

"Because I'm in love with someone else." She answered without any hesitation, prompting Wilson to lower his chopsticks. Cameron smiled sadly as she nodded towards House's office. "I'm a lost cause, apparently."

"Oh, Cameron. I-I don't know what to say. I'm sorry," Wilson apologized, staring down at his noodles. He absently picked at them with his chopsticks, contemplating Cameron's confession. It wasn't as if it was unexpected, but he'd always thought that she'd eventually move on—Chase seemed patient enough to wait it out. But apparently she hadn't budged. The thought brought a small smile to his face. _If only House wasn't such an idiot… He's lucky to have a woman like Cameron waiting for him to come to his senses._ At least, that's what he assumed she was doing. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do about it? I was hoping you might have some advice for me." She popped the other half of the dumpling in her mouth. Wilson thought about that for a moment, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

"Can I ask you a question? What happened in the Mirror patient's room? Or, maybe more importantly, what happened after that?" Cameron froze in place, and Wilson knew he'd hit a nerve. But when she relaxed, he also knew that she'd tell him everything.

"Well, the patient mirrored House, right? He told me he missed me, and that he was sorry, and that he wanted me to come back. But House? House said nothing." She leaned back against the couch, her food forgotten for the moment. "Later that night, he called my apartment."

"He _called _you?" Wilson blurted out.

"Don't get too excited. He hung up when Chase answered the phone. I called him back later, though." Laughing, Cameron ran a hand over her face. "I can't believe I called him back. I'm such an idiot. I called him back and told him I missed him too. He hung up the phone, and I haven't heard from him since. I haven't _seen_ him since, really."

Wilson was steaming. He couldn't believe his friend was _that_ much of a jerk. Well, yes, he actually could believe it, but it still didn't make any sense. House had it bad for Cameron, Wilson knew that, but he didn't understand why House wouldn't just accept it. In fact, it was as if he was constantly punishing himself for it. With a low growl of frustration, Wilson stood up and began to pace his office. Cameron watched him, chewing her hot and spicy beef.

"I'm sorry, Cameron. I really wish I knew what to do. Although he's never actually admitted it to me, I know that he cares for you, but he's just too stubborn to do anything about it. I just…" He threw his hands up in the air. "He's an idiot. That's all that I can say right now."

"That's the problem. There's nothing I can do if he won't even admit that he misses me. I mean, just because he might miss me doesn't mean that he has to have feelings for me. I understand that. But I just don't want to sit around and wait for something to happen. By this point I should have moved on long ago, but I can't. Don't ask me why, because I have no idea." After a sip of her Coke, she turned to Wilson and smiled. "Listen, it's okay. Just talking about all of this has made me feel better already." When Wilson raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving her, her smile grew wider. "Really, Wilson, I promise. Now tell me what's been up in your life recently." Wilson could recognize a change in subject when he saw it, and although he was slightly hesitant to leave such a gigantically important topic, he started to tell Cameron about his life.

* * *

Cameron was glad that she had ended up calling Wilson. It had been great to catch up with him, and even though she didn't solve all the deep problems in her life—heck, she hadn't even touched on a few of them—she felt a slight bounce in her step as she walked down the hallway past Diagnostics. Though she tried to resist the urge, she couldn't help but look into House's office as she walked past. To her surprise, she saw a dim light on. _He couldn't still be here, could he?_ Cameron must have spent at least a minute staring at the office door, desperately trying to decide what to do.

She ended up opening the door without preamble. House was slumped over his desk, a half empty bottle of Scotch next to him. Again she felt the same apprehension she'd felt as a little girl when she walked over to his side. Too many times in her life, this scenario had ended up going badly. Lightly she placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him.

"House?" she whispered. When he didn't move, she shook him a little more forcefully. "House?" He stirred, but didn't fully awaken. Finally Cameron smacked him hard on the arm. House's head shot up, and he was blinking furiously, desperately trying to focus. Eventually, though, he realized who was standing next to him.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked, rubbing his temples.

"I saw your light was on," she responded, smiling. "I'm going to go get Wilson and get him to take you home." When she turned around to head towards the door, she was stopped by the sound of his voice.

"No!" House barked. "Absolutely not."

"Don't be ridiculous, House, there's no possible way you can drive yourself home in this condition."

"I'm not planning on driving myself home; I'm planning on getting drunk." When he reached for the bottle of Scotch, Cameron rushed forward to grab it from him. Her hand wrapped around his as she tried to tug the bottle out of his grip. She stilled when she realized he was looking up at her. He was staring at her, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. It was moments like this that reminded her why it was so hard to give him up. Hesitantly, House's thumb brushed against hers. When she didn't remove her hand, he tried it again with a little more confidence. For a moment Cameron was frozen in place, enthralled with the sensation of his skin against hers. But then she began to wonder about his intentions. Was he just manipulating her so she would give him his booze? The thought enraged her, and she snatched her hand away, along with the Scotch.

"You should really let Wilson drive you home," she whispered, still furious. House gave her a confused look.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be home with Chase, braiding each other's hair and telling each other all your deepest secrets?" he spat. Cameron could tell he was frustrated with her, but she couldn't stop herself from taking his bait.

"No, House. Chase and I broke up today." She slammed his Scotch down on the file cabinet, completely missing the small smile that flitted across his features. "I'm going to go get Wilson."

"Wait." House stood up and rushed over to grab her arm. Automatically, Cameron felt panic rise in her throat; she couldn't help it. Based purely on a long ingrained instinct, she reached up to cover her face with both hands. House stilled completely. "Cameron?" he whispered, his voice barely containing his rage. "I'm not going to hurt you." Very deliberately, he loosened his grip and let her go. "But someone did, didn't they?" She slowly dropped her hands from her face, and found House's gaze. There was a mixture of rage, frustration, and pain in his eyes, but she realized that none of it was directed at her. Was House feeling protective?

"I-I should go," she whispered.

"It wasn't Chase, was it?" When she saw the murderous intent in his eyes, Cameron reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No, House, no. It…It was a long, long time ago. Don't even think about it. I'm sorry; I never actually thought you would hurt me." House looked down at her tiny, pale hand on his shoulder. When she removed it, he slowly reached out and took her hand. He knew that he was pretty drunk by this point, but he couldn't help the warm feeling that spread throughout his body as she curled her fingers around his. "What is it, House?" Cameron whispered.

"I-I…" _What? I love you? I'm sorry? Would you like to have dinner with me, and this time I'll try not to be such a huge jerk? Will you give me a ride home? _"Maybe it'd be a good idea if you got Wilson."_Fuck._ Disappointment washed over Cameron's features as she extricated her hand from his grasp. She sighed as she grabbed the bottle of Scotch.

"Okay then, House. Maybe I'll see you later."

"Yeah, later." He stared down at the floor, not wanting to see the hurt in her eyes as she left his office. _God dammit._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Don't own House.**

**A/N: Uhm… I don't have much to say, actually, which is weird… Hi guys. If you're like me, I hope finals will/have/are go/gone/going well. Review and make me happy. **

* * *

Cameron stared at the anxious woman sitting on the hospital bed in front of her. Though the hustle and bustle of the ER went on as usual, she could feel the world slowly close in on her as the woman described what was wrong. 

"I-I haven't felt the baby move in the past two days. At first I thought it was just because I'm nearing nine months, you know? There's not much room for her to move around, right? And I know that if I'm worried I should keep a kick chart, or something, but it was just…It was just one day, and now it's two days, and I… Please, Doctor, just tell me it'll be okay." The woman gripped her hand, and looked pleadingly into Cameron's eyes. Though she patted the woman's hand reassuringly, Cameron knew that she couldn't hope for the best. The woman's husband stood to the side, nervously pacing along the side of her bed.

"What I'm going to do now is get an ultrasound, and we'll just take a look, okay, Mrs. Burnham?" It took Cameron all of her will power to calmly put on her medical gloves and turn on the ultrasound machine. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. That was a mistake.

* * *

_"Mommy? What's wrong? What happened?" Six-year old Allison went up to her mother's hospital bed, not understanding the dead look in her mother's eyes. "Mommy?" She placed her tiny hand on her mother's hospital gown, and gently shook her shoulder. "Where's the baby? I want to see my baby sister."_

_"The baby died, Allison," her mother explained, not bothering to look at her confused daughter. Her tone was harsh and cutting, which frightened the young child. Immediately Allison's eyes welled up with tears, and she started to sniffle. Her mother gave her one impatient look, and rolled her eyes. "Brian, can you take her away? Allison, go with your father." Panic rose in her throat as she thought about being left alone with her father. She worried about what would happen if he started to drink._

_"Sure, Liz, no problem. Allie, honey, let's leave your mom alone for a while." Her father reached out with his hand, and Allison flinched._

_"No, Mommy! I want to stay with you! Mommy, please?"_

_"Brian." With that one tersely-spoken word, Allison's father forcefully picked her up and took her out of the room. Allison noticed that her mother didn't even turn to say goodbye to her, even as her childish screams echoed throughout the room._

* * *

"Dr. Cameron?" Mr. Burnham queried when he saw Cameron's hesitation. She spun around and faced them with a smile. Her heart constricted as she saw the worry wrought on their faces. 

"All right, let's see what's going on," she said, lifting Mrs. Burnham's shirt and applying the gel. "This is a little cold, I'm sorry." Mrs. Burnham was too nervous to say a word in response; instead, she just gave a curt nod as she stared at the ultrasound screen.

Cameron's heart plummeted into her stomach. No heartbeat; no movement. The baby had died.

"Uh, I'll…I'll be right back," she stammered, standing up and moving quickly to the nurses' station. Ignoring the pleas of the Burnhams to give them news of their child, she spoke to the nurse on duty. "I need you to page an OB-GYN for a consult right away. I think we have a stillborn baby here."

"You think, Dr. Cameron, or you know?" The nurse seemed skeptical. She'd seen doctors try to pass off giving families bad news to other unsuspecting doctors, and she wasn't going to let Dr. Cameron get out of her responsibility.

"Will you please just do your job and page an OB-GYN?" Cameron snapped, earning an annoyed look from the nurse. They had a small staring contest until the nurse slowly picked up the phone and paged Obstetrics. Cameron waited, tapping her toe impatiently. The phone rang after a minute, and the nurse picked up, warily eyeing the usually cheery Dr. Cameron.

"They say they're swamped upstairs—full moon or something, and apparently everyone and their sister goes into labor. I'm afraid you're on your own for this one." The nurse reported, shrugging as she hung up the phone.

"Full moon? B-But it's not even noon!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Dr. Cameron. I'm only telling you what they told me. You can send the woman upstairs."

"Well, I have to! Her baby…" She trailed off as she stole a glance at the Burnhams, and then she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Her baby died! There's nothing I can do for her down here!"

"Then give her the bad news and send her up," the nurse suggested, shrugging once more. Cameron felt tears of frustration prick the back of her eyes, and she turned to the nurse, angry that she wasn't more sympathetic.

"Thanks so much for you help," she spat, leveling her with a gaze that might have made even House proud. As she tried to gather herself for what she had to do, Cameron closed her eyes once more.

* * *

_Two months after she was dragged from her mother's hospital room, Allison returned home from school to find a quiet house. Usually her mother was in the living room, smoking a cigarette or sipping her early afternoon cocktail; recently it had been both._

_"Mommy?" Allison called out, surprised to hear no answer. Slowly, she put down her school bag and closed the door behind her. Scared to find herself alone, she ran up the stairs as fast as her little legs would take her. "Mommy?" she whispered, hearing the radio in her parents' bedroom. As if by its own volition, the bedroom door slowly swung open…_

* * *

Cameron's eyes shot open. She walked towards the Burnhams, wrestling with her own emotions. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Burnham," she began, looking at their fearful faces, "I'm afraid I have some bad news." The blood from Mrs. Burnham's face drained, and she gripped her husband's hand forcefully. "It appears from the ultrasound that your baby, unfortunately, has died…" When Mrs. Burnham burst into hysterical tears, Cameron felt herself shut down. She had to get out of there as soon as possible…

* * *

House was in the middle of a differential diagnosis when Chase strode into the room. Foreman and the three fellows looked at him with curiosity—especially Foreman—but Chase gave only House a hard glare. 

"Dr. House, may I speak to you for a moment please?" he asked, obviously doing his best to be polite. House raised his eyebrows, too intrigued to concentrate on returning a sarcastic comment. Instead he turned to Foreman and nodded towards the whiteboard. Without hesitation, Foreman took up where House left off, allowing Chase and House to speak privately in House's office.

"What can I do for you today?" House asked, flopping down in his chair, and picking up his ball. Chase ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Okay, Cameron's missing." House dropped the ball, and it bounced noisily across his desk, knocking down a few papers and pens along the way. All of the occupants of the other room gave the two men a strange look before continuing with the differential.

"What do you mean 'Cameron's missing?'" House hissed.

"She was in the ER this morning, then she took her lunch break, and she was expected back for clinic duty over an hour ago. But she's nowhere to be found! We tried paging her, calling her, and I just came back from her apartment; she's nowhere. But her car is still in the parking lot, so she couldn't have gone far. It's just… she had a tough case this morning, and I think that it hit her pretty hard, and I'm just worried." Chase sat down in the chair in front of House's desk, and House realized for the first time that Chase looked exhausted.

"Why are you talking to me about this?" House asked. "What do you think I can do about it? My mystical powers do not extend to Cameron Tracking, nor would I want them to. X-ray vision, on the other hand…"

"House, this is serious!" Chase stood up again, and began to pace. "The only time I've ever seen her drink too much, she mentioned something about a stillborn younger sister, and today she had to tell parents that their baby was stillborn, and I'm… I'm just worried." He was repeating himself, which made House frown. Though Cameron had told him last night that the two of them had broken up, Chase was clearly not over it quite yet.

"Again, I have to ask: why me?"

"Because I'll never understand her," Chase mumbled, sitting down again. "We broke up, House. She's not mine to worry about."

"So she's mine to worry about?" He began to twirl his cane, desperately trying to play it cool as he wracked his brain, searching for ideas as to Cameron's possible whereabouts.

"No! No, that's not what I'm saying." House waited as Chase gathered his thoughts. "I could never get inside her head to understand what was going on, nor she would ever let me. But you, House? She'll let you in." Chase laughed. "God only knows why." With that, he stood up and headed towards the door. "Will you let me know when you find her?"

"You still love her, don't you?" House asked.

"Don't you?"

"Never did," House responded, rolling his eyes, though he felt his traitorous heart skip a beat. "You obviously didn't want to break up with her."

"She doesn't want me, House," Chase replied, his tone letting House know that it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It was never me." He left without letting House get another word in, which was probably for the best. After a moment's hesitation, House picked up his cane and left his office, headed towards the place where he knew Cameron would be. His fellows watched him carefully, all turning to each other silently when he was finally out of sight.

* * *

"You know, I really can't believe that it took this long for you to finally skip clinic duty. I must admit, though, that the build up has made for some really impressive drama now that you've finally cut loose." He had to raise his voice a bit in order to be heard over the wind. Being on top of a roof in the middle of November was not his idea of fun, but he understood the urge; it was the only place in the entire hospital that you were pretty much guaranteed to be left alone. House had thought that he was the only who had ever been up here, but clearly he was wrong. 

"Go away, House," Cameron called out. He took a moment to observe her. She was sitting down on the ground, with her back up against the wall. Though her eyes were red from crying, at the moment her cheeks were dry and she wasn't sniffling. When she didn't hear him move, she turned to look at him, and the depth of pain in her gaze shocked him. And yet, bizarrely, he thought she looked beautiful. The naked emotion on her face was enthralling.

House ignored her command, and sat down beside her. The last flight of stairs had worn him out more than he would like to admit, and he had to rub his thigh for a few moments before he could speak.

"Chase is looking for you," he said, watching her to gauge her response. She smiled sadly, and drew her knees to her chest. The response told him nothing.

"Well, he didn't find me, did he?"

"So, you have an issue telling people about their dead children, but specifically babies; I think I've gotten all of that by this point. Last night you reacted as if I might…as if I might physically hurt you. Considering you stole my bottle of Scotch last night," he shot her an annoyed look, "I'm assuming…"

"House, stop it." Cameron turned to him, her voice rough. "This is really not the time or place for you to try to figure me out." He saw her knuckles turn white as she gripped her arms, digging her fingernails into her sleeves.

"I beg to differ. I think this is the perfect time to figure you out. In the past two days, I've been given at least three different puzzle pieces…"

"What is it that you want to know?" She interrupted him and stood up, keeping her arms crossed over her chest. "What is it? Do you want to know that when I was six my mother killed herself while suffering severe post partum depression? Or do you want to know that my sister was stillborn, and my mother never recovered? What about the fact that she left me, all of six years old, to find her body? How about that, House?" Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks as she shouted her confessions to the wind. "But it gets more interesting, which I'm sure you'll be glad to know. My alcoholic father started beating me when I was four, but it only got worse when my mother died. When I was sixteen he finally drank himself to death, leaving me to my senile maternal grandmother, who died when I was twenty. Is that what you wanted to know House? Did you want to know just how damaged I am? Do you feel better now? Because I don't." She started to wipe away her tears with her sleeves. "So, yeah, today I needed a few minutes because I had to go and ruin a family's life."

"But they aren't your family, Cameron. You don't know that they won't bounce back." House stood up and walked over to her. They stood a few feet apart, eyeing each other suspiciously.

"Since when are you the optimist?" she snapped.

"You can't make every tragedy about you. That's not how it works," he admonished.

"What about you, House? You pop your pills, drink your booze, and make your sarcastic comments all in a desperate effort to not make it about you." She took a step closer to him and poked him violently in the chest. "I'm just willing to admit that something might actually affect me."

"This isn't about me." He took another step closer to her, forcing her to strain her neck to look up at him.

"Why are you here? To tell me I'm overreacting? Thanks, I think I've got it covered, because despite what you may think, I don't like the fact that I'm up here crying over something that happened more than twenty years ago." They both stared at the other, suddenly realizing that their bodies were only inches apart. "Why are you here?" she whispered, leaning forward slightly. House watched the emotions play over her face: anger and frustration were replaced by sadness, resignation, and, he thought, hope. Unthinkingly, he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Chase was looking for you," he repeated, somewhat flustered as he realized what he'd just done.

"You're not Chase," she countered.

"Thank God for that," he exclaimed. Cameron gave him a small smile.

"I'm sorry, House, for yelling at you. I just… I guess I wasn't prepared for that this morning." She walked past him and leaned against the edge of the building, watching the people below. House took a place next to her, mirroring her position.

"I-I used to come up here all the time, before this," he said, holding up his cane. "It's been a little while, though."

"It's a nice spot. You're usually left alone. That is, if you don't have sarcastic, crippled bastards stalking you." She shot him another shy smile, obviously still feeling somewhat guilty for yelling at him.

"I'm going to have to buy you a thesaurus for Christmas, because those are the three most obvious adjectives that could be applied to me. Well, I guess technically you used 'bastard' as a noun, but…" He trailed off, shrugging. "Cameron, you can't avoid these sorts of things when you're a doctor. You know that."

"I know, I know. It's just… No, never mind, it's kind of stupid."

"What?" Of course he had to ask. She hesitated, staying silent for a few minutes.

"I guess I was thrown off by what the Mirror patient told me. I've just been trying to figure some things out since then." House turned to look at her, intrigued. Of course he knew what the Mirror patient had said when they'd both been in the room, but he had no clue what had been said when it had been just her… But when she didn't elaborate, House realized that she wasn't going to tell him anything else. "I should probably go do my clinic duty," she said, sighing.

"It can wait," House suggested, turning to look at the sun. As they approached winter, the sun disappeared sooner and sooner. Though it couldn't be later than three, the sun was already approaching the horizon. "A few more minutes…"

"Yeah, a few more minutes," she repeated, turning to look at House. "I can wait."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own House.**

**A/N: Happy New Year! (And, uh, Merry Christmas while I'm at it…) **

* * *

Cameron couldn't be bothered to get out of bed the next day. She knew it wasn't worth it to wallow in self-pity for too long, but, hell, everyone deserved a day or two in their lives to overreact to something. And, honestly, Cameron couldn't remember the last time she lay in bed in her pajamas until one in the afternoon. Sighing loudly, Cameron turned onto her side, and watched her cat languish in the afternoon sun. A small smile flitted across her features as Gretchen stretched lazily before closing her eyes once more.

When she heard an insistent knocking at her front door, Cameron frowned, but she made no move to get up and answer it. She'd expected either Chase or Foreman to call her at some point during the day with some macho display of concern, but cutting out of work to show up at her door? Only one man had the balls to do that, and she really wasn't up for that right now. Cameron knew she shouldn't have been surprised when she heard her front door open, but she raised her head and peeked out her open door and into her front hall. She watched as House glanced around the apartment, his watchful gaze taking in the small details. It was easy to imagine what he'd see: Gretchen's near-empty water bowl, yesterday's dishes (not to mention those from the day before) strewn about the living room and kitchen, the jacket haphazardly dropped onto the floor near the couch. But she swore silently when he caught her studying him. It was with a bit of surprise and consternation that she noted his anger.

"Go away," she ordered, lowering her head once more to the pillow. Of course he wouldn't listen to her, but the purpose with which he strode into her room made her heart pound a little harder. What was he up to?

"Cameron, get up. You're coming to work," he commanded, throwing off her covers. Cameron allowed herself a small smirk as she noticed his pupils dilate as he took in her shorts and tank top. She couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine, though, as his eyes raked down her body.

"House, I called in sick. Don't you have a patient?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, though she wasn't sure to which question he was referring. "Get up and get dressed. I'm going to take you to the hospital myself."

"House, no. I called in sick, and I'm taking the rest of the day off, okay? You can't_make_ me go to work," she scoffed. Almost immediately, she regretted her words. The wrong thing to do in this situation was to challenge him. Now his stubborn male pride would certainly force him to make sure she got to work. "Would you like some coffee? I was just about to make some." House watched, incredulous, as she stood up and walked past him.

"No, I would _not_ like some coffee. I would like for you to get dressed and go to work," he called out, following her to the kitchen. Cameron ignored him, but did pull out two mugs from her cupboard. Again House watched her, thrown off by her casualness.

"Does Cuddy know that you skipped out on work? I'll bet she doesn't. I wonder what she_thinks_ you're doing." The multitude of scenarios that passed through her mind brought a small smile to her face. "Oh well," she added, though it didn't mean anything in particular.

"Cameron, you can't just sit around feeling sorry for yourself," House admonished, his voice sounding somewhat harsh through his clenched teeth.

"House, do I look like I'm sitting around feeling sorry for myself?" she countered, pushing a button on her coffee machine. It was a somewhat feeble comeback, and they both knew it. "I just needed a day off. It's been a…bizarre past few months to say the least."

"That's no excuse," he pushed.

"What, so I'm just supposed to push on as if nothing had ever happened? As if I hadn't started and consequently broken off an ill-advised relationship with a co-worker and a nice guy? As if I hadn't quit my beloved job and started a much less fulfilling one? As if I hadn't had to face brutal memories of a past that I so desperately wish I could forget? As if I…" She froze, realizing quickly what she'd been about to admit in front of House. Moving to cover her slip-up, she reached for the sugar on her small kitchen table. "We're not all like you, House. We don't just pretend that nothing can affect us, because everyone knows that it's impossible not to _feel_." Cameron tried her best not to sneak a glance at House, but she could catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye.

"That's not what I meant," he grumbled after a moment, running a hand over his face. "You can't just skip out on work because you're feeling _sad_. That's not how life works!"

When he brought his fist down violently against her kitchen counter, Cameron jumped and looked up at him. He looked just so _angry_.

"House, what's wrong? Why do you care if I take a day off of work? I don't even work for you anymore, so I don't really think it's any of your business." Though she spoke quietly, she spoke forcefully—forcefully enough so that House's brow wrinkled with confusion. "I'm a big girl, House, I don't need you…" she broke off as she felt tears prick the back of her eyes. Blinking furiously, she tried to turn away from House, but he put a hand on her shoulder and swung her to face him. She had barely a second to refocus before his lips came crashing down on hers.

Cameron froze as House pressed his body against hers. Somewhere, deep down, she immediately realized that he was desperately trying to communicate something to her—something he obviously wasn't sure how to say. But, with no small amount of regret, she quickly saw that this was perhaps not the best way to figure things out between them. Though she knew that at least a small part of her would hate herself for it later, she placed a warning hand against his chest and leaned back.

"House, stop," she said calmly. He obeyed her, but she saw the hurt flash through his eyes and she knew that he was taking this as a flat-out refusal. As he tried to step away from her, she put her hand against his waist, holding him in place. It took a moment for her to regain her focus after she took a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent. "House, this isn't the best way to go about things. I'm… having a bad week and you're obviously very upset about something. We can't just try to release our frustrations like that…"

"I thought it was helping…" he mumbled under his breath, looking off to the side. Cameron had to bite her lip to keep from smiling as she noticed the slight blush rising in his cheeks.

"Yeah, but it starts off with one time, then two, then three, and then suddenly we're completely dependent on each other to solve our problems in a not-exactly-healthy way."

She paused, looking down at her hand against his waist. As if to reassure herself that it was indeed _her_ hand so carefully placed against Gregory House's side, she moved her hand up to his chest and she gingerly covered his heart. "What are you so angry about?" He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"I'm angry that you decided to sit at home and wallow instead of facing things head on." Though to anyone else it would have seemed that he was finished speaking, she could sense that he had more to say. "I'm angry that you were in a relationship with Chase when it was so obviously such a dumb thing to do. I'm angry that you quit for no good reason and that you've settled for such a stupid job that you very clearly don't want to be doing. I'm angry…I'm angry that your father hurt you and that you thought I would ever do the same to you." She was lucky that she was standing so close to him, because as he continued to speak his voice lowered until he was barely whispering. For a moment, Cameron couldn't breathe. House had never been so honest with her about how he was feeling. _Never_. Why now? Why here?

"Why do you care?" she asked, though she knew it was probably the worst thing she could have said. With a growl of frustration, House stepped away from her and walked to the living room. He paced madly for a second, before turning to her.

"You want to know why I _care_?" he spat. "Really, Cameron, you want to know?" Cameron watched, helpless, as House threw off his leather jacket. He was wearing only a red t-shirt underneath, so he pointed to his naked elbow and said, "You see this scar here? That's from when I was knocked into a glass table because I didn't come home in time to help my mom set the table for dinner." Without thinking, she took a step forward. House reached down for his pant cuff, and rolled up his jeans. Then he pointed to the knee of his uninjured leg. "This one here? This is from the one time I was stupid enough to try to run away. I fell on the stairs and ended up with two broken ribs for my efforts." He turned around and lifted his t-shirt to reveal his back. Cameron almost reached out with her hands to run her fingers along the few small, yet harsh white scars littered across the hard planes of his back. She felt a tear roll down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away before House could see her. "Those were accumulated throughout the years, though most of them resulted from instances in which I wasn't properly respecting his authority." House's tone was bitter and mocking. He turned to face her once more. When he saw her red eyes, his gaze hardened. "Don't be stupid, Cameron. You don't get to sit around and feel sorry for yourself. Because if you do? If you do, you don't do anything else." Without hesitation, House picked up his jacket, put it on, and then he stormed out, slamming the door in the process.

Cameron spent at least five minutes staring at that door, trying to make sense of what had just happened. House had opened up to her, somewhat as she had to him on the roof of the hospital yesterday. She began to curse herself. Twice—_twice—_House had sought her out when she'd wanted to disappear. Twice he had gone out of his way to… comfort her? Help her? She wasn't sure what House's motives were, but she knew that she was an idiot for not appreciating his efforts.

And then there was that kiss. Of course she'd had to stop him, right? She knew that they were both frustrated and were looking for a way out of things, and she knew that rough, meaningless sex would not have fixed anything in the long term. Well, certainly not for her, because she knew that it would never be meaningless on her end… In that moment, Cameron allowed, for the very first time, the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be meaningless for House either.

"Oh, God dammit!" Cameron cried out, covering her face with both hands. "How could I be so unbelievably, profoundly stupid?" She ran to the bathroom, violently turning the knobs of her tub to start a shower. Whatever else happened today, she wasn't going to come back to her apartment until she found and spoke to House.

* * *

Half an hour later, Cameron walked through the front lobby of the hospital, dressed in a gray skirt, pink short-sleeved blouse, gray vest, and black pumps. She ran a hand along her skirt, trying to smooth invisible wrinkles. It felt a little ridiculous to be so dressed up when she was supposed to be sick and at home, but she was a woman on a mission, and she wanted to look good. Quickly, she made her way to the elevators, making sure to duck her head as she passed Cuddy's office.

Her heart was pounding as she approached the Diagnostics office. So far she'd managed to avoid anyone who knew her, but at the very least Foreman would be there, and she didn't particularly want to have to ask for House and face Foreman's disapproving look. But she got lucky—House's team, including Foreman, was nowhere in sight, but she could see House brooding in his darkened office. Before she gave herself a split second to doubt her reasons for coming, Cameron opened his door and walked in.

It was only when she met his ice-cold gaze that she realized she hadn't really planned what to say.

"Good to see you finally decided to get over yourself," House growled, inspecting her from head to toe. Cameron resisted the urge to turn around and walk out of his office forever, but she stood her ground.

"House, would you like to get a drink with me after work?" she blurted out. Whatever House was expecting her to say, that was very clearly not it. He froze in place, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. When he didn't answer immediately, Cameron began to fidget. "You know, I'm not suggesting we go out on a _date_ per se, just, you know, a drink. Like what friends would do." Then she waited. And waited.

"Okay," he replied. "I'll pick you up at your apartment at 6." Then he swung his chair away from her so that he faced the balcony. After another moment Cameron realized that that had been the end of the conversation, so she turned around and walked out of his office.

* * *

Wilson walked out of his office, frowning as he looked over a patient's lab results. He looked up as he passed Diagnostics, and was surprised to see Cameron standing in the hallway, looking completely shell shocked.

"Cameron?" he called out. When she turned to look at him, he noted the completely dazed expression on her face.

"Oh, Wilson, hi." Cameron didn't focus very well on his face.

"Um, what are you doing here? I thought you had called in sick." He couldn't help but feel a little worried, so he reached out and lightly touched her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you know, I'm not here officially. I just had to, you know, talk to… House about….something," she finished lamely. Wilson looked into House's office, noticing House's back was facing them. But his friend was totally still. Something weird had happened, though Wilson had no idea what.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually," Cameron replied, a grin breaking out across her features. She giggled, shrugging her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm doing okay." Then she turned to look at House brooding in his office. After a moment she rolled her eyes. "Well, for the moment, anyway."

"Okay…" Wilson said, for lack of anything else.

"I'll see you later Wilson, I need to get back home." She waved, flashing him a grin once more. He watched her until she was in the elevator, and then, like a bloodhound trailing a scent, walked straight into House's office. Of course House didn't turn around when he walked in, so Wilson opened and shut his mouth a few times as he thought of things to say and then discarded them just as quickly. He knew that if House had seen him he would have told him to stop making fish faces and just say something already, dammit, so he could return to his PSP.

"House, what the Hell just happened? I _know_ something did, so don't even try to deny it!" House swiveled around to face Wilson, a hint of an enigmatic smile flickering across his face.

"Come now, Jimmy, what could possibly have happened?" He reached for his cane and stood up.

"Well, that's what I would like to know. Cameron wasn't crying, so you didn't break her heart, or something like that. She looked completely shell-shocked, which means that you either did something nice—unlikely, as we both know—or… Or you admitted that you have feelings for her? No, that would be too easy."

"Do I even need to be here for this?" House asked, swallowing loudly as Wilson's not-so-wild guesses wandered closer to the bull's-eye. He walked out into the hallway, trailed by the stubborn Wilson.

"Why would she have dressed up to come into work when she's supposed to be sick? And, for that matter, where did you disappear to during lunch? Did you…?" House didn't need to look behind him to realize that Wilson had just had an "Aha!" moment. Instead, he heard the rustle of Wilson's lab coat as, House assumed, he gesticulated wildly. "House!" he whispered furiously. "House, did you go to Cameron's on your lunch break?"

"Why would I do something like that?" House grumbled, repeatedly pressing the button for the elevator.

"Because you like her, that's why!" Wilson crowed. House turned around and shot him a warning glance. "After nearly four years, can you just admit it, House? I promise I won't ask you another question if you will just admit to me that you like Allison Cameron." The elevator doors opened, and House stepped in. When Wilson didn't follow, House smirked and pressed the button for the cafeteria floor.

"Okay, Wilson, here it goes: I—" The elevator door shut in the face of an expectant Wilson. House allowed himself a triumphant smirk before he frowned. Drinks with Cameron were no big deal, was it? He sighed, placing his forehead against the cool metal of the doors.

Who was he kidding?


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Don't own House.**

**A/N: Heeeeeey, guys. So, thanks a lot to those of you who have reviewed—it really brightens my day. Reviews have dropped off a wee bit, and I guess I'm wondering if it's because people don't like where it's going, or because we've all been on vacation, or something… Let me know you're still reading, people! **

* * *

House stared bemusedly at Cameron as she downed the rest of her beer, a mere five minutes after they'd sat down in a booth at a bar near campus. Cameron had shot House a look when she noticed a larger-than-normal number of coeds—especially the blonde, big-breasted type—but he had merely shrugged and shot her an enigmatic smile in return.

"Is this really the best bar you could come up with?" Cameron asked, taking a deep breath and wiping her mouth in a somewhat unladylike manner. She set her glass down with a loud clunk, and watched as it rocked from side to side before settling. House's hand quickly shot to his mouth as he attempted to cover his smile. "You know, if you're just trying to emphasize how much younger I am, or how blondes are dumb and slutty, then you know what, House? You know what?"

"Feeling a little defensive tonight, Dr. Cameron?" He cradled his glass of Scotch in both hands, and raised an eyebrow. "Gotta tell you: it's not that sexy."

"You know, you're a hypocrite," she announced, motioning to the waiter for another beer.

"Cameron, you really haven't had _that_ much to drink, have you?"

"You told me that I couldn't sit around and feel sorry for myself, but what do you do? You pop pills, drink too much, push away anyone who ever even remotely gives a crap for you…"

"Did you pre-game?" House interrupted.

"What are you doing with your life if not feeling sorry for yourself? Gotta tell you: it's not that sexy. I think that you need to get over yourself too, House. Yeah, I get it: life has sucked for you so far. A bum leg, a bitch of an ex-girlfriend, and a complete jerk for a father? House, _I get it_." She reached across the table and placed a strong hand on his wrist. The waiter placed her second beer down on the table, and, quickly noting the intense staring contest between the two, high-tailed it out of there. "I have a martyr complex, right? I married a dying man because I wanted to be needed, remember? I want you because you're damaged, right? House, I'm just as damaged as you are. I mean, we're all damaged in some way, but you and me? We make it an art. So now that we've established that we _both_ feel sorry for ourselves because we got the short end of the stick in life, let's enjoy our drinks. Let's start over." Without waiting for any acknowledgement from House, Cameron picked up her pint of beer and started chugging. House couldn't hide his shock as she finished her second beer in a matter of seconds. After she set down her glass, she gazed at her former boss across the table. "Oh, I'm so going to regret that in a few minutes."

"Which part? The beer or the speech?" House inquired nonchalantly, downing his own Scotch.

"I'm pretty sure all of it." Cameron groaned and placed her head down on the table. After a moment, she sat straight up and covered her face with both hands. "I just don't know what to do with you." House sighed and ran a quick hand through his hair, endeavoring to look anywhere in the bar except Cameron.

"You see, the thing is…" He trailed off and stared at his hands, both of which were quickly becoming a tangled mess on his lap. "Wilson is my best friend. He would tell you he's my only friend, and maybe he's not too far off, but the truth is he's my best friend. One of the reasons why he is my best friend is quite simple, really: he gives me perspective." Again, he sighed. "Yeah, Cameron, we're damaged, and _part_," he said, raising his eyebrows, "_part_ of it is because we've had some… bad luck. But the truth is we could have had it worse." Cameron could see how painful this was for House—not necessarily because it was difficult to talk about, but rather because it was difficult to talk about it with _her_. "My point yesterday was, and still is, this: you need to grow up. You have…improved over the past three and a half years. You're your own person. But you still need to grow up. You have to stop dating guys who aren't right for you, for starters," he shot her a significant look, "and you have to find what makes you happy. You have to work for it, Cameron, and finding work that you really want to do would be a great place to start."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What makes you happy? _Who_ makes you happy?" Cameron looked miserable in this particular moment, and again House was reminded of how beautiful she looked when draped in the gentle folds of melancholy. It took a moment to find his voice once more.

"I like my work, and I like my music. I suppose I enjoy hanging out with Wilson, though if you _ever _tell him I said that I will do everything in my power to make your life miserable." He pointed a threatening finger at her, but then balled his hand into a fist and brought it down on the table. "My life is fine as it is."

"Liar," Cameron accused quietly, giving House a sad smile. "You're a terrible liar. Well, when you care, anyway."

"Everybody lies," he replied. "Everybody lies." There was a long pause at the two looked down at their respective empty glasses.

"Why do I always screw this up?" She started to laugh. It began with a small chuckle, which she immediately tried to suppress with a hand over her mouth. But before she knew it, she was clutching her sides with tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why do I always do this?"

"I _really_ wish I knew," House responded, frowning deeply whenever she wasn't looking his way. "I really, _really_ wish I knew," he mumbled under his breath.

"So, what, are you my Wilson now? Are you going to give me my much needed perspective on life?" Cameron asked, smearing her tears across her cheek. There was a long pause as House contemplated just how to answer that question.

"I could be," he said, finally looking her in the eye. "And I could."

"Friends, then?" she asked, her voice barely carrying over the sounds of the clacking pool balls and the flirtatious laughter of the young university students. For a moment, she allowed her self to glance at those students, reminded of all the superficial fun she never had while she was nursing a dying husband.

"Yeah, I think we can manage that," House agreed, surprisingly serious. They both nodded, and then began to feel awkward once more.

* * *

House, ever the gallant gentleman, walked a listless Cameron to the door. He was afraid that he'd finally broken her; that'd never been his real intention. She opened her door without saying a thing to him, and when she finally entered her apartment, she turned around and leaned on her doorframe.

"Good night, House," she whispered, bravely attempting a smile. When House only nodded in return, Cameron began to shut the door.

"Wait, Cameron," House said, a hint of pleading entering his voice. She waited, staring at the man in front of her—the man who still wouldn't, or couldn't, tell her how he felt. Unconsciously, she began to prepare herself to be disappointed. "Uh, good night. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow or something."

"Yeah, tomorrow," she agreed, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. House watched the door shut with a decisive click. He raised a hand to knock, ready to tell her everything that he wanted to tell her. Yet he couldn't bring himself to move his hand. It was such a simple movement, and he just couldn't do it. Sighing, he unfurled his fingers and placed his moist palm softly against the door, followed closely by his forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to help himself. He would never know that Cameron mirrored his position on the other side of the door, silent tears cascading down her cheeks.

* * *

The next day Cameron got up early and called Cuddy's office to make an appointment with the Dean of Medicine. Though her eyes were still puffy from her therapeutic crying spells throughout the night, she appeared every inch the professional woman as she stood in front of Cuddy's office at two-fifty sharp.

"Cameron, come in," Cuddy ordered, her brusque words undermined by the warm smile she gave the younger woman. "What can I do for you?" she asked, watching Cameron calmly shutting the office door.

"Foreman told me about your various offers to lure him back to Princeton, and also told me about his various reasons for rejecting them. I thought I understood them, and maybe I did at that moment, but the truth is now I think he's crazy. I'm in the ER, working grueling shifts and I don't feel half of the accomplishment I did while working in Diagnostics. I'm not excited when I get up for work in the morning, and the truth is that I think I do my job well, but I think I did better in Diagnostics. I think I still could do well in Diagnostics, but there's always House to deal with."

"Tell me about it," Cuddy mumbled, awkwardly shifting a few files on her desk for no discernable reason.

"Foreman told me you gave him the option of running his own Diagnostics team. He told me it would have been secondary to House's team, but it would have been his own team to run. I want that job, Dr. Cuddy. While I worked for House, I did the majority of his paperwork and I covered most of his administrative duties, so I'd be more than able to deal with that aspect of the job. Three years ago, I would not have been prepared for a leadership position, but I think I'm ready, and I think I can build a team and work in an environment that doesn't rely on despotism. Dr. Chase would be a crucial component, and I would want him to be Foreman's equivalent on my team—a second in command, so to speak. Dr. House put forty fellowship candidates through the paces, so I think I have a good idea of who to hire, if they'd be willing to work for me."

"Have you talked to either House, Foreman, or, for that matter, Chase about this?" Cuddy asked, leaning back in her seat. She was intrigued, that much was certain.

"Uh, not quite, but I have reason to believe that Dr. Chase may be willing to switch to this job." Cameron had to remind herself not to wring her hands.

"One that trumps the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend?" Though Cuddy's intention was to throw Cameron off her game by displaying her seemingly omniscient control on the hospital's grapevine, Cameron remained unruffled.

"I think so. Dr. Chase and I are professionals, if that's what you're worried about. Besides, both he and I would be much more willing to appear at hospital fundraising events as well as meet with potential donors. When we were simply House's fellows that would not have meant as much, but as leaders…"

"You've made your point, Dr. Cameron," Cuddy interrupted, waving a hand. For a moment, the Dean of Medicine façade dropped and Cameron got a good look at the fatigue wrought on the older woman's features. "The board recognized Dr. Foreman's potential as a leader, a doctor, and, more importantly, as a possible successor to House's position. I'm not one hundred percent that they'll see the same in you. No offense meant by that, of course, but…"

"I'm a woman. A woman who blackmailed her boss into going out on a date, and openly dated her colleague. I understand, but I'm willing to take my case to them personally if they'll give me the chance. If _you'll_ give me the chance," she amended. "You know I can do this." Cuddy sighed and gave Cameron a long look.

"It's funny, actually, because I would never have thought you could until this very moment. But the honest truth is that a second team would take on more cases, and therefore bring in more money, which would not only make the board happy, but would also get them off my back about House's fiscal uselessness." Cuddy stood up. "Okay, we have a board meeting tomorrow. I'll amend the agenda to include you. Be ready to go at three, and we'll call on you if we need you."

"Thank you, Dr. Cuddy. I promise I won't let you down." Cameron couldn't help her glowing grin. Maybe things were turning around…

"Oh, you better not, because I will not hesitate to fire you and disband your team. Make sure you talk to Dr. Chase about this. I don't want to tell the board we have to look for a replacement in surgery if we don't need to."

"Okay, I will," Cameron promised, bobbing her head up and down several times. She turned to leave.

"Oh, and, Dr. Cameron? What will you do if you don't get this job?"

"If I don't get the job, I'll leave Princeton." Cuddy looked up from the board meeting agenda, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Well, I'd hate to see that happen, so let's do our best to get this off the ground, okay?" It wasn't a suggestion.

"Sounds good," Cameron agreed, leaving the office without saying another word. When she was outside in the lobby, she allowed herself a deep breath before she left to find Chase. There was no time to lose. In her haste, however, she missed the curious glance of House in the clinic. He watched her until she was out of sight, doing his best to ignore the slightly empty feeling in the pit of his stomach when the elevator doors closed on her determined face. Frowning, House turned to look into Cuddy's office. Something was going on.

* * *

The next day, Wilson checked his email, printed out the amended agenda and quickly made his way to House's office while the ink was still drying.

"House, can I talk to you?" he asked, throwing open the door to the conference room. Five pairs of eyes turned to glance at him, but he was only interested in the wintry blue one that belonged to his friend. House threw the black marker he was holding to Foreman, and stepped into his office with Wilson.

"What'd I do now?" House whined, reaching for his PSP.

"Take a look at this," Wilson ordered, slamming the agenda down on House's desk. Intrigued, House leaned forward, keeping his eyes on Wilson.

"What is it?"

"Just read it, House." Surprisingly House did so without the usual snarky comment. But to Wilson's complete shock, when he reached the last item on the agenda, House smiled. He _smiled_. "Wait, what's wrong with you?"

"Do you think this is a bad thing, Wilson?" House queried, leaning back in his chair once more and looking very much like the cat that ate the canary.

"No, as a matter of fact I think it is a fantastic thing. I think that Cameron actually could do better than run a team that would be, theoretically, under yours. But I was… I don't know, I was expecting you to start throwing things or march to Cuddy's office and… You're not mad? Are you happy? Indifferent?"

"I think that if it goes through, I'll be golden. Cameron will take every case she possibly can because she won't want to say no, and she'll bring in significantly more money to the department. I'm sure she _also_won't say no to Cuddy and will turn up at every single fundraiser and donor lunch possible, and she will charm away. That, my dear Wilson, will give me the freedom to do whatever the Hell I feel like."

"Or it could just emphasize how useless you really are," Wilson suggested.

"Not if I get to diagnose the occasional newsworthy case, and get the hospital's name in the paper," House countered, standing up and reaching for his cane. When he reached for the door leading to the conference room, Wilson stopped him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you planned this." House paused, keeping his back to his friend.

"You know, in a way I did. If it'd gone completely according to plan, though, there would have been more explosions and scantily clad women." He smirked as he pushed open the door.

"I'm guessing you didn't read the part about Chase," Wilson called out, feigning casualness. He crossed his arms over his chest and absently tapped a finger against his chin. House stopped dead in his tracks, quickly pulling the door closed. "He'd be the Foreman to your Cameron. I wonder if it'll be awkward for them to be working together, you know, since they broke up. Or maybe they'll resolve their differences; they'll certainly be spending enough time together." House couldn't help it—he turned around to face Wilson, jealousy blazing in his eyes. When he noticed Wilson's smug look, he took a deep breath and let the jealousy seep from his eyes and settle into a sick knot in his stomach.

"You know that won't happen Wilson, but what would I care? They deserve each other, don't they? All I want is for them to take some pressure off of me."

"Keep telling yourself that, House. Someday it may even be true."

"You're really obnoxious sometimes, you know that?"

"It's why we get along so well." House pursed his lips to suppress a smile.

"Jimmy, work your magic and get Cameron her job," he ordered. Wilson's smile was wiped off of his face and he nodded solemnly, clearly taking House's command to heart.

"I'll do my best," he promised. House nodded, satisfied.

"Let me know what happens." Without looking back, he opened to the door and walked into the conference.

"Yeah, I will," Wilson whispered, his eyes narrowing as he watched his friend. He saw the moment that House put on the façade; he waited for the moment that he became an entirely different person.

* * *

A few hours later House sat in his darkened office, feeling too lazy to even flip on his desk light. When he saw Wilson standing at the door, he sat straight up in his chair. Wilson only opened the door far enough to put his head inside the office.

"It's a go, House."

"Good," House replied, sounding as if Wilson had simply told him he was going home for the night. Wilson hesitated for a second, waiting to see if House would say something more, but when his friend didn't move or speak, Wilson closed the door softly behind him. When Wilson was out of sight, House smiled.

_Good girl_, he thought. _This'll certainly shake things up a bit… _Then he frowned.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Don't own House.**

**A/N: Patience, young grasshoppers. House and Cameron will get together, but who said it'll be easy? I am also not a doctor, but enjoy figuring out this medical stuff more than a liberal arts major probably should, even if it's not 100 accurate… **

* * *

To the surprise of no one involved, despite his initial approval it took House all of forty seconds to become annoyed with Cameron. Sure, Chase as number two on the team made perfect sense—Hell, in some ways House missed having Chase on_ his _team—but when he saw her third (and final) member of the team, he nearly blew a gasket. 

"I fired him!" House yelled, safely ensconced in Cuddy's office with a bored looking Cameron and a completely uninterested Cuddy. "I fired him, therefore he is _not_ allowed to be a member of _my_ department." He emphasized the "my" by looking at Cameron, who still appeared unruffled by his outburst.

"Dr. House," she began, "Dr. Cole will only work for you nominally. In actuality, he'll be working for me and your paths should cross rarely, if ever. And if I recall correctly, you fired him because you didn't approve of his conspiring with Dr. Cuddy. I, on the other hand, have no problem with his actions given the rather outrageous circumstances." To House's eternal frustration, while giving her little—likely prepared—speech, she inspected the cleanliness of her fingernails and flicked a piece of lint off of her pristine lab coat.

"Plus _I_ rehired him," Cuddy interjected with a sickly sweet smile. "So, case closed. You may outrank Dr. Cameron, but I outrank you. Besides, I like Cole." She slammed a file down on her desk with a decisive thunk. "Dr. Cameron, I'd like you to stop by at the end of the day to just give me a report on how your first day went." House stood to the side, watching the only two women in his life ignore him completely. It frustrated him to no end.

"I'd be glad to, Dr. Cuddy," Cameron replied, smiling.

"If House gives you any trouble today…"

"Don't hesitate to give trouble back?" The two women shared a knowing smile, rolling their eyes simultaneously.

"Exactly. Let's just be thankful he'll have to get off his lazy ass and walk to the other side of his floor in order to bother you face-to-face. Sorry, by the way, that we don't have anything bigger for you guys. At the moment, anyway. Bring in some money, and we'll make sure to make you guys a bit more comfortable."

"Um, I'm still here, you know," House interrupted, waving his hands. "And I'm still not going to let Cole be a member of my department."

"Oh, it's no problem, Dr. Cuddy. I'm thankful for the opportunity regardless of where we work. And, just in case you didn't already know, our first patient is due here in half an hour, so I better get going."

"Absolutely. I look forward to hearing from you later, Cameron."

"Later, then, Dr. Cuddy." House watched, astonished, as Cameron and Cuddy exchanged warm grins. When the door to Cuddy's office closed, she sat down and began working on her computer. House was dumbstruck.

"House, are you really still here? I thought you left a while ago. Aren't you due in the clinic?" Cuddy didn't even look at him. It was a conspiracy, he decided, a mass conspiracy on the part of Cuddy, Cameron, and very likely Wilson, to bother him as much as possible.

"Cole can't be part of my department."

"That's nice, House."

"Wait, what? I'm serious!"

"Uh huh. Yeah. Okay. Well, it was nice chatting to you, I'll talk to you later." For the first time in a long time, House wasn't going to get his way with Cuddy. Grumbling, House threw open the door to her office and stalked out. He missed Cuddy's triumphant grin as the door slammed.

* * *

House's frustration only escalated over the next few weeks. Not only had Cameron, Chase, and Cole diagnosed three—three!—patients in one week, but they also were already disgustingly chummy. House spotted them in the cafeteria together almost every day, he spotted Cole carrying three coffees from Starbucks in the morning, and he'd noticed Cameron carrying bagels when they were called in on Saturday. Though more than a few bets had been placed on when Chase and Cameron would finally lose it with each other, the two exes were disgustingly…okay with each other. Sure, they weren't exactly warm and fuzzy—or doing it in the janitor's closet, for that matter—but their personalities balanced each other. Cole fit right in, an easy mix of the two older doctors. House's own team had noticed his increased grumbling, and it didn't take much for the group to point to Team Cameron's immediate success as the likely cause. 

"You know, we could probably take on more patients," Taub suggested one morning, as House told his disappointed team that there were no new patients today. "Not every case needs to be something nearly impossible to diagnose. Sure, it's more fun, but sitting around all day isn't exactly making the best use of our time."

"Yeah, I mean, you wouldn't even need to run things—Foreman could do it," Kutner added. Foreman raised his eyebrows in surprise, simultaneously realizing the same thing that House did.

"Have you guys been having secret meetings without me? I believe this is what they call mutiny, gentlemen, and you know what the punishment for mutiny is." They both rolled their eyes. "Yeah, that's right. Clinic hours. Go do mine." He shot a quick glance at Thirteen to gauge her reaction, but she was annoyingly blank, as usual.

"We're just saying…" Taub spread his hands wide.

"If you want to solve boring, easy cases go see Dr. Cameron and her team of fluffy bunnies."

"Or maybe she'll come to us," Taub countered, nodding towards the glass walls. Cameron gave the group an annoyingly cheerful smile, and opened the door. House kept his back toward her, staring at the empty white board.

"Good morning, everyone. Listen, Foreman, I need a consult. Do you have some time?" Foreman resisted the urge to snort, and looked around the room at the crowd of people with absolutely nothing to do.

"I think I can spare a minute or two," he said, his sarcasm not lost on House.

"Do you need a hand, Dr. Cameron?" Taub asked, sneaking a glance at his boss. House's new team, though still new, was confused by House's silence in the presence of his former employee.

"Uh, I'll let you know, Dr. Taub. Foreman?" As Foreman stood up and walked to the door, Cameron watched House's back. She couldn't pretend to be an expert on reading House's back, but the way his shoulders seemed firmly planted up by his ears was a good indication that he was in a lot of pain or that he was extraordinarily annoyed.

When the glass door shut, Cameron turned to Foreman, who raised an eyebrow in question.

"Cuddy just handed me the file of a donor's father—sixty seven, Alzheimer's. I wanted a neurological consult, you know, to cross check symptoms of Alzheimer's with whatever else this guy has." Foreman took the file from Cameron's hands, his stance letting her know that he was somewhat skeptical.

"You know, Cameron, I really don't need your help getting work around here."

"No, I'm sure, Foreman." She paused. "I'm sure sitting around the conference room all day is really tough on you. Late nights scouring over textbooks…"

"All right, all right, I get it," Foreman interrupted. "I'm all yours." Cameron smiled in triumph, and led him to the patient's room. They stood outside for a moment, joined quickly by Chase and Cole. "Does your room suck _that _much that you do differentials in the hallway?"

"Actually, yeah," Chase replied, shrugging. "It works, though I kind of miss the whiteboard." A beat. "Don't tell House I said that."

"Your secret's safe with me," Foreman said, condescendingly patting Chase's back. Chase shot him a dirty look, and the two men smiled at each other. Cameron rolled her eyes as Cole furrowed his brow, desperately trying to understand the interchange.

"All right, so our patient today is Richard Stevens, a sixty-seven-year-old man diagnosed with Alzheimer's. He is currently living in an assisted-living facility, and, since he is a VIP, was brought straight to us once he started to exhibit the following symptoms: weight loss, hypertension, depression, and back pain." Cameron passed around the file, staring at the patient through the glass. He looked sad, she decided. He didn't look confused, which is what she might have expected for someone with Alzheimer's as advanced as his. Mr. Stevens' son told her that his father was still capable of many things, but that it wasn't likely he'd ever remember having met her.

"Well, everything except hypertension could be attributed directly to Alzheimer's—he could forget to eat, for instance, and we all know that depression is pretty common. The back pain could just be from an injury he's forgotten—maybe he continually strains it by trying to pick something up, or by playing golf, or anything. If he's hypertensive, let's get him on some meds, keep him overnight and get him out of here." Foreman snapped the file shut and handed it to Cameron.

"Yeah, I think you're wrong," Cameron countered, smiling. "Let's go talk to the patient." She pushed open the door to the room, and smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Stevens, I'm Dr. Cameron, and this is Dr. Chase, Dr. Cole, and Dr. Foreman." As she started to speak to the patient, Foreman had the chance to hang back a bit and watch Cameron in action. He was surprised by how self-possessed she seemed; how she appeared much stronger than he'd ever seen her before. What had happened? Even Chase didn't seem to mind that meek, caring Cameron was now his alpha female boss.

"Mr. Stevens, can you tell us where your back pain is located?" Cole asked, stepping towards the patient. The man nodded and pointed to his side.

"Right here," he announced, waving his hand over the affected area. Cameron's eyes narrowed and she moved forward to examine him. As she did, however, Mr. Steven's demeanor changed. "Who are you people? Why am I here?" he screamed, squirming in Cameron's grasp. Immediately, the three other doctors moved forward to help her hold him down, but they moved a split second too late. The confused Mr. Stevens lashed out with a closed fist, and punched Cameron in the face. Foreman could only watch as Cameron flew backwards, clutching her face. The momentum was such that she could not keep her balance. As Chase called out for a sedative—which Cole quickly grabbed—Foreman tried to call Cameron's name. She'd hit her head—hard—against the wall with a sickening crack.

"Cameron! Cameron!" The moment Foreman knew that Chase and Cole had the patient under control, he rushed to her side. "Cameron, are you okay?" He breathed a sigh of relief when she groaned, and reached for the back of her head. A strangled noise escaped from her throat, however, when she noticed the blood on her fingertips.

"That was dumb, wasn't it?" she whispered. "I mean, I should have expected that. I probably should have made him wear restraints, though no one told me that he's been violent." As she spoke, Foreman examined the back of her head, trying not to worry about her words slurring together. She'd hit her head against something—Foreman wasn't sure what—that had punctured her skin, but she wouldn't necessarily need stitches. Head wounds bled a lot, right?

"It's okay Cameron. You did nothing wrong; it was totally unexpected." Though she didn't seem to be panicking, Foreman thought it best to speak soothingly, and to tell her that she'd done nothing wrong. "You'll probably have a nice shiner, though."

"Foreman? Look at that," she said, pointing. Foreman quickly looked over his shoulder, and did a violent double take.

"Shit. His kidneys." Foreman was staring at the urine bag, which was filled not with healthy, yellow urine, but rather with gloomy, brown urine. "Guys!" he called out. Cole and Chase rushed over, at first worried about Cameron, but when they saw what was drawing the attention of Cameron and Foreman they frowned.

"Flank pain," Cole announced. "To be precise, it's not back pain, it's flank pain." At this, all four doctors hung their head for a moment, their minds jumping to the same conclusion—it was easy enough.

"Someone should probably call Wilson. Or, maybe we should get a CT scan first. Right, a CT scan to confirm. Someone should do that," Chase whispered, his color a little off as he returned his attention to Cameron. Cole nodded, and left the room. "He was probably going to the bathroom on his own, right? No one would have noticed the urine? That doesn't seem possible. Maybe we caught it just in time."

"Well, we'll see," Foreman replied noncommittally, keeping his focus on Cameron. When he spoke next, he spoke to her. "Right now I need you to tell me how you feel. You were out for a few seconds. Dizziness? Headache?"

"How about you let me stand up first?" she grumbled. That turned out not to be the best option, because Cameron threw up as soon as she was on her feet, and she once she was finished with that, her legs gave out on her.

"Okay, yeah, I'd say you definitely have a concussion," Foreman mumbled as he caught the falling Cameron. She blinked furiously.

"What? Foreman? What are you doing here?" Foreman sighed and called for a gurney.

* * *

"Wow, what a morning," Wilson said, throwing open the door to House's office. House ignored him as played his PSP. "So, today Cameron's team sent me a case—a donor's father with renal cell carcinoma. We'll have to see if we caught it in time, though it's not looking good. Chase is going to perform an exploratory surgery and see if he can remove all the cancer surgically. But you know what's fascinating about this? Cameron apparently caught the brown urine, thereby alterting us to kidney problems, seconds before she… I don't know. Lost it? That's not quite the right word for it…" 

"What, did she finally bring in the sawed-off shotgun and take out half of the clinic?"

"Wait, did I forget to mention the severe concussion she'd just received?" Wilson was awarded with the sounds of House's video game alter ego—whoever it was—dying unexpectedly. "Her patient has Alzheimer's, and apparently became violent when he didn't recognize her or his surroundings. Oh, yeah, and not only did she bash her head against the wall, but she also got a nasty black eye. Foreman's going to keep her overnight at least so he can monitor her concussion. Apparently he's worried, because she lost consciousness for a few seconds…" Wilson hid a grin as House rushed past him and out of his office.

* * *

"How long was she out?" House barked, noticing Chase, Cole, and Foreman standing outside of a hospital room. One look at the concern etched on their faces let him know that it was her room, so he didn't bother to spare her glance. When no immediate answer was forthcoming, House repeated his question, punctuating each word with a violent stab of his cane.

"A matter of seconds," Foreman replied, uncharacteristically nonplussed. "She's having trouble remembering what led up to her concussion; and she's dizzy, nauseous, and has a nasty headache. I'll keep her overnight, but I'm sure she'll be fine."

"No, you don't _know_ that she'll be fine," House spat. "You don't _know_ that she won't have any permanent brain damage, which, technically, is possible if she lost consciousness. You just _know_ that it's not likely." He ignored the confused looks from the other men, and finally peeked into Cameron's room. She was staring out the window, frowning.

"Are you going to go in there?" Chase asked.

"No, why would I do something like that?" House snapped. "It's not my fault she was stupid enough to let some old guy take a swing at her." And with that, he stormed off.

"Was that House caring about her?" Cole questioned.

"I think so," Foreman replied, watching House yell at an unsuspecting nurse.

"That guy has some serious issues," Chase grumbled, hating himself for worrying about whether or not Cameron would be depressed by House's apparent—and superficial—lack of interest.

* * *

Cameron slept away most of the day, though she was woken a number of times by Foreman. The last time he woke her, he told her that he'd be back in the morning—she'd assumed that it was late at that point, so she was confused to wake up once more and find House sitting by her bedside, his feet propped up on her bed as he watched TV. When she groaned, he sat straight up and started asking her questions. 

"How's your head? Are you dizzy? Do you remember what happened?"

"House? What are you doing here? I thought… Foreman said he was going home."

"Cameron, answer the damn questions."

"My head is pounding, I don't feel _too _dizzy, and I'm honestly a little fuzzy on the details." She couldn't help but smile as she watched House go into full-on doctor mode as he asked more questions. Satisfied for the moment, he leaned back in his chair and returned his attention to the television. "House, you never answered my question: what are you doing here?"

"My cable's out." The slight hesitation before he answered let her know he was lying.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

"At least I'm not an _idiot_, unlike a certain blonde immunologist I know. What the Hell were you thinking?" House never looked at her, which unnerved Cameron somewhat.

"House, my head really hurts. Can you please save the lecture for later and get me something to take for the pain?" She tried to locate a nurse, but a quick look at the clock told her that it was three in the morning—there weren't many nurses around.

"No, no pain meds for you. You get to sit here and think about what you did."

"That's hardly fair," she moaned, turning onto her side, and clutching the rails of her hospital bed. House didn't answer, but once he heard her breathing become more labored, he turned to look at her. Her skin was drained of all its color, and her hair was plastered to the back of her neck. "House, please," she whispered as she fiercely shut her eyes. Carefully, House helped her to sit up, ignoring the slight thrill that shot through him as he lightly touched her side. She gratefully took the offered pills from him, though she was in too much pain to realize that he held the cup of water to her lips as she drank. "Thank you," she said, her face still contorted in pain. A few moments later, she felt a cool, wet cloth against her neck. Cameron opened her eyes.

House steadily avoided her gaze as he wiped her face and neck. He worked methodically but tenderly, and Cameron enjoyed the look of intense concentration on his face. From his look, one might conclude that he was restoring a great work of art. Perhaps, in a deluded way, that's exactly what he was doing, though Cameron didn't like to think like that.

"If you feel the need to puke, do it anywhere but on me, got that?" House's voice was gruff, but it also miraculously contained some of the tenderness that he'd expressed with his touch. "Now go back to sleep." Before he managed to turn away, Cameron grabbed his hand. Though his hand remained limp in her grasp, she squeezed it affectionately. House sighed, clearly frustrated, but he grudgingly squeezed back. "Sleep," he ordered. Cameron slept, though she knew that House wouldn't be there when she woke up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Don't own House.**

**A/N: Writer's block is so not fun. **

* * *

"Foreman, I'm fine!" Cameron exclaimed, unable to keep the frustration out of her tone. She'd been prodded and poked all morning long, and now that she was _finally_ feeling better, Foreman was trying to convince her to stay in the hospital for at least another day. Apparently he thought shining a light in her eyes and wearing a lab coat would make his case.

"Cameron, you had a pretty bad concussion, so, please, let me do my job and make sure that you're okay." Foreman had his arms crossed over his chest, and his expression told Cameron he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Just let me go home! Call and check up on me every hour! I'm a doctor, too, you know." Foreman hesitated, and Cameron knew she had him. "I'm fine. Really."

"All right, all right. But I _am_ going to call you every hour to check on you, and if you don't answer then I'm going to come by you apartment and drag you back to the hospital." His way-too-cheery tone garnered a glare from Cameron.

"Deal," Cameron agreed, grinning suddenly. She couldn't wait to get out of here and enjoy a couple of days off.

* * *

"Where's Foreman?" House asked, suddenly realizing that his number two wasn't in the conference room sending him disapproving looks every two seconds.

"He's checking up on Dr. Cameron, I believe," Taub answered, clicking his pen an obscene number of times as he looked through an old textbook.

"Can't he get a nurse to do that?" Kutner asked, making a face.

"Have you _seen_ Dr. Cameron?" House interjected. "Given the choice between staring at her and staring at your ugly mugs all day, I'd go with Cameron. No offense, Thirteen. You're hot, too."

"None taken," Thirteen replied, keeping her gaze focused on the journal open in front of her. House noticed her smirk, however, and he shot her a glare. Even though she still refused to glance in his direction, her smirk morphed into a knowing smile. "But you know, Dr. House, Dr. Cameron left the hospital this morning and Foreman is only talking to her on the telephone."

"What? He let her go home?" House exclaimed. When his three fellows turned to look at him, he cleared his throat. "I guess I'd better cancel the naughty nurse I hired to come and give her a sponge bath, if you know what I mean." All three fellows groaned and rolled their eyes, which is exactly House expected them to do. So, during their Pavlovian reaction, House slipped out the door and disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Cameron groaned when she heard a knock on her door. She picked herself up off the couch, and threw open the door.

"Foreman, you just called me…" Her voice trailed off as she realized that it wasn't Foreman standing in front of her door. "House?" He looked her up and down, taking in her tight yoga pants and t-shirt as well as her abused face.

"You're not dead. Just checking. I'll see you later," he grumbled, turning to leave.

"Wait!" When House grudgingly turned around to face her, Cameron realized that she hadn't planned anything beyond that. When in doubt, improvise. "You see, I have a dilemma, and I think maybe you can help me out. My head still hurts a bit, so I don't really feel like cooking, but I should really eat lunch, right? But if I can't cook, then I need to order out. The funny thing is that it seems I don't have any menus here—I guess I always go out to eat." Okay, so it wasn't completely true, but House's resolve seemed to be wavering. "Something tells me you know by heart the number of any Chinese restaurant in the area. So, if you could help me order, then I'll pay for your lunch. What do you say?"

House stared at her for a long moment, his mind whirling with possibilities. "You know, you look like shit," he said, focusing his gaze on her black eye.

"All the more reason why I need someone else here to open the door for the delivery guy." She didn't miss a beat, and he had to give her some credit for that.

"Fine. Show me to the phone."

A few minutes later, after House had expertly ordered Chinese— somehow knowing exactly what Cameron wanted—the two sat on Cameron's couch, flipping through TV channels. Cameron couldn't help but notice that they sat as far apart as possible, and it brought to mind a few awkward dates in high school. As Cameron lingered on a rerun of a Project Runway episode, House groaned and lunged for the remote. He caught Cameron completely by surprise, so the remote was his with a minimal amount of struggling.

Cameron glared at him, but he only smirked in response as he sped through the channels, barely giving her a split second to register what was on the screen before he moved on. After a few more moments of silence, Cameron spoke.

"What did you see when you died?" House froze, and she knew she'd hit a nerve. "When you stuck a knife in a socket, House. Technically, I guess you didn't _die_ die." He sighed and relaxed, and even the incessant channel changing stopped for a moment to linger on Sports Center. The look of relief on his face told her that he believed he'd dodged a bullet, but of course she didn't know what he wasn't telling her.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"That's too bad," Cameron responded, frowning. House forgot the remote for a moment, and turned to look at her.

"Wait, what? Aren't you an atheist?"

"Sure, but that doesn't necessarily mean I relish the idea that I'm going to die and never see anything or anyone again. I'd like to see my mother again, or even my father."

"The whole _point_ of there being nothing after death is that it makes this life right here all the more significant. We don't get do-overs," House grumbled, madly flipping through the channels once more. "And why your mother? Hell, why your father? Why not your _ex_-husband?" A beat. "You see what I did there? I made a pun on the word 'ex-husband', because, you know, yours is dead."

"I see that, House," Cameron replied, surprisingly unfazed. "Of course I'd like to see him again, but in general I don't feel as if we had any unfinished business. He died, and I wish he hadn't, but I said everything that I wanted to say. He knew I loved him, and I knew he loved me."

"But you don't feel that way about your parents."

"No, of course I don't."

"And you want to encounter them in the afterlife to…reassure yourself?"

"No, House. I'd want to…" she trailed off, looking off into the distance. For a moment, House just looked at her. He loved these moments when she wasn't aware of him—when she wasn't trying to impress him, or help him, or scold him, or even challenge him. No, he loved to just watch her be her. In these moments, Allison Cameron was a completely different person. For some reason, she always struck him as much stronger than she ever had at work. There was some inner quality that seemed to have been worn away over the years, but which always remained. Then she became aware of him once more, and he saw the tension return to her shoulders. "I'd want to know who they really were—underneath the alcoholism, temper, and depression. They were people, and I never really got to know who they were. And I never will, I guess, and that makes me sad. You're right, House, we don't get do-overs, but don't you ever wish we did?"

House took so long to reply that she was sure he wouldn't. "I don't see how it would help."

"What?"

"Do-overs. We'd be completely different people if that were the case."

"True, but maybe that'd be a good thing."

"Hardly," House scoffed.

"Why not?"

"Say you hadn't married your husband. You wouldn't have gone through the whole process of watching him die, right? So you would have kept some measure of the innocence, or hope or some other quality that you lost when you…When he…You know. Some would say that would be a good thing, because why should someone so young have to go through so much? And yet, what would have happened the next time you went up against something difficult? You wouldn't have been as prepared and who knows what would have happened. There's no way of knowing, nor should we waste time wondering. You're you, and that's it. What's happened has happened and nothing you do could possibly change that." House didn't feel like watching TV anymore, so he shut it off and threw the remote onto the coffee table in front of him. Leaning back in the couch, he snuck a quick glance at Cameron.

"But what if you hadn't sent Stacy away? Or if you…"

"Or if I what? If I hadn't said what I said on our date?" He let out a harsh bark of laughter. Then he stilled, thinking back on various memories. "Stacy is something different. She would never have been _completely_ happy with me, so in the end I couldn't have been happy. We might have spent more time together, or we might have spent the rest of our lives together, but at some point it would have turned into a sham."

"And me?" She had to ask, however stupid it might be. House frowned. His eyes caught hers, and she saw the various emotions swimming at the surface of his soul. Hesitantly, Cameron reached out and lightly grasped his hand.

"I don't know," he whispered, obviously hating himself for speaking. "I don't know, Cameron."

"Kiss me." The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. Oh, those two words were probably the two dumbest words she could have said to House besides "marriage" and "lupus."

"What?" He'd certainly heard her, so she could only guess his reasoning for asking her to repeat it: either he was giving her a way out, or he _needed_ to hear it again.

"Kiss me, House. Stop thinking about it, and just kiss me." Cameron smiled at him, a shy yet honest smile. "No do-overs, right?"

"No do-overs," he repeated stupidly, scooting closer to her. It was ridiculous, but it seemed so simple when she put it like that…

Cameron leaned forward, one hand still grasping his and the other reaching out to cup his cheek. House stared at her, obviously confused but still intrigued. When he felt her cool fingertips against his cheek, he closed his eyes and sucked in his breath.

"Open your eyes, House," Cameron ordered, her voice surprisingly shaky. But House did as he was told, and noticed that her face was several inches closer to his than it had been mere seconds ago. The two sat still for a moment, both content with the feeling of Cameron's fingers lightly caressing House's cheek. Then House closed the distance between them, pressing his lips reverently against hers.

They were both hesitant at first, each expecting to be rejected with every new breath. But slowly they relaxed as Cameron's lips parted, allowing House's tongue to graze hers. Cameron's hand wandered from House's cheek down to his chest, and House placed an insistent arm around her waist, drawing her ever closer to him. She was surprised by how soft his lips were despite having tasted them twice before. Well, "before" had been different; "before" hadn't meant anything. Now she was able to enjoy the moment.

When she moaned, House urged her onto her back. Cameron smiled against House's lips as she realized that none of her awkward dates in high school had quite ended up like this. But her smile was quickly wiped off of her face when House's hand slipped under her t-shirt.

"Oh, God," she whispered, opening her eyes as House's mouth wandered to her neck. All reason seemed to leave her; all she could think about was the weight of House's body pushing her down into the couch, or the softness of his hand caressing her stomach, or the roughness of his beard against her chin as he kissed her. Desperately, she pulled his shirt up so that their bare stomachs could finally touch. They both breathed a sigh of relief as skin met skin.

Then the doorbell rang. Startled, the two froze in place, staring at each other.

"Of course," he mumbled. "I think you'll need to get the door."

"What? But I have a black eye!"

"Cameron," he growled, "I think that at this moment I will get a much more bizarre look than you will."

"Oh," she replied, blushing.

"Yeah." After a slight hesitation House sat up, freeing Cameron. She walked to the door as if in a daze, handing the delivery guy a tip much larger than she would have given him even in her best of moods. Slowly she made her way to the kitchen with the Chinese food, preternaturally aware of House's gaze, his breath, even, she could swear, his heartbeat. So she was not surprised to find him behind her, taking the food from her grasp and placing it to the side before wrapping his arms around her, drawing her closer for another kiss.

He was much more confident this time; he knew that she won't reject him, though Cameron briefly wondered how he could ever think that she would. But though this kiss was much more brief, it also promised so much more.

"You need to eat," he whispered, placing his forehead against hers. "The food will get cold."

"That's what a microwave is for," she countered, threading her index fingers through his belt loops and tugging him closer to her. House smiled and placed a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Food now," he ordered. He quickly stepped away from her.

"Okay," she acquiesced. But throughout the entire meal the two couldn't keep their eyes off of each other. House observed her as if she were a lab rat, noting her intake of food and the color of her cheeks. He noted her smile and her renewed confidence. Cameron, on the other hand, observed House in a completely different fashion. She watched his hands as he elegantly used chopsticks to eat his food and his tongue as he caught errant drops of soy sauce on his upper lip. Her heart began to beat quicker as she watched the workings of his throat as he swallowed. Funny how something so simple could turn her on.

When Foreman called once more, Cameron frowned.

"Can I tell him you're here so he'll stop calling?" House nodded once in reply, but he looked away from Cameron and she knew immediately that he was a little embarrassed by the notion that Foreman would know where he was. "Foreman," she said by way of greeting.

"Hey Cam. Is House still there?"

"Uh, yes," she replied, drawing out the "s" as she looked across the table at her lunch date.

"Am I going to need to call you later?" Cameron could hear the slight smirk in his voice.

"I don't think so, but I'll let you know. Or not."

"Okay then. Just don't…"

"Bye Foreman!" Without bothering to listen to Foreman's protestations, Cameron shut off the phone. House was watching her with a raised eyebrow.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Well, apparently Foreman is psychic." She stood up and began clearing the table. House wanted very much to pretend that he didn't enjoy this moment of domesticity, but he did enjoy watching Cameron clean the dishes in her yoga pants, wondering how it would be to come up behind her and kiss her neck. Would she lose her focus and lean against him, whispering—no—_moaning_ his name? Would she smile and teasingly wiggle her bottom against his increasingly excited groin? Maybe she would sigh happily and shut off the water before turning towards him and wrapping her arms around his neck. And in that moment, House knew he could be happy with Cameron. Oh, it wouldn't always be easy; he also knew that much. But in this very moment—such a simple, meaningless moment—House had never been more content. It was a moment full of so many perfect possibilities.

And, of course, that scared him. Without even turning to face him, Cameron felt the sudden change in mood, and she shut off the water in the sink with a quick flick of her hand.

"House…" she warned. "Don't." Then without sparing him a glance, she turned the water back on and finished cleaning the dishes. So House decided to find out what exactly she would do. He came up behind her and placed his hands on either side of her waist. Cameron hesitated for a split second, but continued to clean up. Undeterred, House brushed her hair to the side and began placing light kisses on the back of her neck. She shivered underneath his fingers, and he couldn't help his triumphant grin. Once he grazed his teeth against her jaw, Cameron finally shut off the water and turned to face House. The mischievous twinkle in his eye nearly made her heart stop.

"We should probably take this slow," House said, teasingly running his hand up her body before stopping right beneath her breast.

"Ah, that's probably a good idea," Cameron agreed, leaning her head back so House could kiss her neck.

"How about we start with dinner? Tomorrow night?" That stopped Cameron in her tracks.

"You want to have dinner," she repeated.

"Don't you?" he replied, thoroughly confused.

"Not if it ends up like every other time we make plans to go out somewhere. Well, except for the monster trucks date."

"That was _not_…"

"Okay, then: the monster trucks outing."

"Well, what do you want to do then?"

"I want to do something that you want to do—something completely different."

"I hate it when women give answers like that," he grumbled. "That means absolutely nothing to me."

"Well, it should. What I want, I suppose, is this: if you want to sit on your couch and watch bad TV with me, then I want to do that. If you want to go to a fancy restaurant and have dinner, then I want to do that. If you want to go shopping at the mall, then I want to do that. I just don't want to have to fake it."

"I don't want you to fake it, either," he whispered, pressing against her. Cameron moaned loudly.

"No, no. I mean, I want to know you." She could almost _feel_ House roll his eyes, but he held himself back. "Show me something new, House."

"Fine, fine, woman," he exclaimed. "I'll try."

"Good. That's all I ask," she said, placing a light kiss on the tip of House's nose. "How about we watch a movie?"

"Deal," House agreed. He could feel some of his panic well up again, but he did his best to quash it. _One step at a time, Greg, _he admonished himself, _one small, painful, limp at a time…_


End file.
